Revenge
by kmccartneyyyy
Summary: When her father dies in a hunting accident dealing with angels and other hunters, Grace swears revenge by teaming up with Crowley. Sure she is doing the right thing, she never questions the demon who has given her everything. However, when she is assigned to capture the Winchester siblings, a certain angel stands in her way and questions her actions and the motives behind them.
1. Chapter 1

Hello! I'm quite stuck on what to write for my newest chapters of _Come Home_, so I thought more writing would help me! Now presenting a new story (hopefully this one will be finished). Enter Grace Parks, a young hunter set on revenge, trying to find and kill the angels and other hunters who conspired against her father. I hope you enjoy xx

* * *

**Chapter 1:**

"How about a toast to my most wonderful asset?" smirked Crowley, pouring two glasses of scotch and handing one to the exhausted woman face-down on the motel bed. The demon frowned slightly, setting the glass on the bedside table after she replied with an incoherent grunt. Impatiently, Crowley took a sip of scotch, smacking his lips and refilling it. "Don't make me drink alone, sweetheart. It saddens my heart."

Grace rolled over and sat up, taking the full glass on the table and drinking from it. While it burned her throat going down, it was oddly refreshing and she continued to sip on it at a slow pace. She crossed her legs in front of her. "Cheers," she gasped, holding her scotch up and touching Crowley's glass to her's.

Crowley looked around the dark and dirty motel room that Grace had checked into for the quick night. He scrunched his nose and cleared his throat. There were cobwebs in every corner of the ceiling and the television didn't even work - it was all static. "I still don't understand why you stay in places like these," scoffed the man. "I think Hell would be a bit neater than this. And I should know. I tell you repeatedly that you would be treated wonderfully down below."

"I think I still need to build up the tolerance for temperatures over six hundred degrees," Grace retorted sarcastically, drinking more scotch. She held her glass out for Crowley to refill, which he did. "And I'd rather sleep on a hard mattress than a bed of nails."

He chuckled lightly. "You make it out to be so much harsher than it actually is, love."

"I don't care to find out the reality of it, to be honest," answered Grace, finishing off her second glass of Scotch and lying back down, resting her hands under her head and looking at Crowley. "Now, if you don't mind."

"Party's over already, hm?" smiled Crowley. Grace raised her eyebrows. "I suppose I'll get out of your hair, darling. Sleep tight, then. Must be rested up for tomorrow."

"What's tomorrow?"

"Haven't figured it out yet."

Grace laughed as Crowley disappeared silently and she was left alone in the motel room to think. Even though he was a dangerous demon who could easily kill her with a wink, she harbored no ill feelings towards Crowley and was not fearful of him at all. The lovely accent of his didn't make him intimidating at all, even though he believed himself to be extremely terrifying.

She rested her eyes, thinking about the day she had. Crowley had told her hunters were killing demons left and right in a small town in central Ohio. She did her job perfectly - after all, she had been practicing for several years. She would be told to arrive a random city by Crowley and he would introduce her to the hunters in town. She would manipulate them, befriend them, and lead them to Crowley, who would ultimately decide their fate. It was exhausted, truly, and it usually took Grace days to lead the hunters somewhere they didn't know, but sometimes it was quick and only took a few hours or a whole day. The assignment she had just returned from took a little over twenty hours and Crowley decided, out of three hunters, all three were to die. Grace never argued with the demon's decision and never questioned his logic. She was exceptionally numb to witnessing death. It did not affect her at all anymore.

It all started when her father died in a horrible hunting accident. Dale Parks was one of the greatest hunters known and it came to the hunting community as a shock when he died. When Grace was seventeen, her father took her out on her first case and she was prepared with a vast amount of knowledge on just about everything they could hunt. Hunting was all she knew and it was all she was taught. Against her mother's best interests, Dale Parks taught his little girl to work guns, use salt, and kill monsters.

Grace hardly remembered anything from that day - it was almost as if the memory had been erased. All she could recall was a flash of bright light that burned her eyes, an older man introducing himself as an angel of the Lord, and explained that other hunters were working against him. It wasn't long after that strange incident that Dale Parks was found one morning with a deep, giant gash in his throat, lying absolutely still next to his wife, who had been stabbed with a knife directly through the abdomen.

The lonely daughter was furious with everyone. Angry that the hunters and angels had been working against her father, trying to kill him and take him away from his family. Several times she thought the murder was out of jealousy or just plain stupidity. Grace could not decide and she rarely thought about her father's death anymore. It only made her stronger.

After seeing both her mother and father lowered into the ground, Grace traveled to the closest crossroads and met a demon by the name of Crowley, who was willing to listen carefully to her offer.

"_Name's Crowley," said the demon in a Scottish accent, with a grin on his face, his hands behind his back. Grace looked him up and down and Crowley raised an eyebrow. "I know you, however. You're so young, Miss Parks. I feel like it's been longer."_

"_You know who I am," Grace spat back fiercely. "So you must know that my mother and father were recently murdered in bed? The angels and other hunters were teaming up against him."_

"_Naughty bunch, those angels," laughed Crowley darkly. "Don't really have the brains we demons do."_

"_I'm not here for small talk," she continued and Crowley's smug smile remained plastered on his face. He was impressed with her confidence and boldness and was intrigued by the young teenager standing in front of him. It was rare when he encountered a hunter so young, but he always loved them the most. However, Grace was different. She seemed strong for such a young girl. Crowley wasn't even sure she was fully developed. "I'm here to make a deal."_

"_You know I'll have to remind you of the rules, right?" Crowley asked and Grace shrugged, knowing very well what she was about to give up in return. "Ten years, Hellhounds - blah, blah, blah, I'm sure you already know this stuff. It's the rules, however. But what can I do for you, Miss Parks?"_

"_I want to be the best hunter in the world," Grace told him quickly, quite sure of her decision. "For ten years. And I'll give myself up after those years run out. No fighting, no running - I'll go silently and acceptingly."_

"_The best hunter in the world?" inquired Crowley carefully, raising both eyebrows. Grace's fists curled into balls. "That's quite a responsibility. That's a lot of weight to carry on your skinny shoulders. Are you sure you'll be able to handle it? A seventeen-year-old girl? Why don't you come back in a few years when you've got a chest? Then we'll make a deal."_

_Blushing furiously, Grace crossed her arms over her chest. "I need to get revenge," growled Grace. _

_Sighing at Grace's persistence, Crowley pursed his lips and stared at her. "I think I can negotiate with you," Crowley nodded and ruffled his own hair, beginning to pace back and forth in front of Grace. "And I think you'll like my idea much better. Usually, I wouldn't do this for anyone else, but you're a special case. I don't believe any other demon would be able to do this, but as I am King of the Crossroads, I can do whatever I want."_

_Grace was silent, waiting for him to go on._

"_You want revenge, you say," thought Crowley, nodding slowly, still. "And trust me, I hate those hunters and angels just as much as you. We don't particularly have a good past."_

"_Where are you going with this?"_

"_You team up with me," suggested Crowley and Grace looked at the ground, considering it thoroughly. "I lead you to all our victims, and you - the new, best hunter in the entire world - hunt our enemies. We'll get you a good reputation among us all down below, and you'll get to live your entire life."_

"_I get to live my entire life, bound to you?"_

"_Ah, love," Crowley sighed contently. "It isn't that bad. I don't bite, I promise. But there are a few conditions."_

"_Like what?" asked Grace, seriously considering his offer. Working with demons? She looked down at the ground, weighing her decision out. It hadn't been demons that killed her parents - she knew that for a fact. It was angels and humans and if Crowley's end game was the same as her's, why not team up?_

"_Well, there's an obvious one," Crowley cleared his throat. "If you try to kill me or harm me or turn against me, my lovely pup will drag you down to Hell for the rest of eternity." When Grace didn't respond, he continued. "You're still a hunter, Miss Parks, and I am still a demon. Our trust is still a bit shaky."_

_Grace nodded awkwardly and sniffed. "Okay, fine, that's fair," she agreed. _

"_You've got to do whatever I say."_

"_I know."_

"_There's no turning back."_

"_I know."_

_Crowley's lips turned upwards slightly. "Then, I suppose, we've got ourselves a deal."_

"_Um -" Grace felt the color rise to her cheeks again. "I'm not - I was wondering - my dad always told me that - that, er - deals were sealed with a kiss? I mean - is this deal official?"_

_Crowley laughed harder than she had ever seen. He walked over to her and put a hand on Grace's shoulder, wiping a tear from his eye. "Miss Parks," he started. "This is a deal between you and me, first of all. And secondly, you're a seventeen-year-old girl. There will be no kissing here. But like I said, maybe in a few years when you get a chest!"_

Grace had been working with Crowley ever since, and in a few days, she would turn twenty-three, which would add another year with her demon friend. How many was that total? _Six_. Six years with Crowley. She deserved a medal. At times, Crowley was impatient and angry and bitter, but that was only very rarely. Most of the time, he was a sarcastic, entertaining, brat, who enjoyed his scotch a little too much.

Although, Grace was quite happy working with him. He had never once betrayed her, always gave her what she needed, and had made her the greatest hunter in the world as far as she was concerned. She was not always hunting hunters, though. Crowley enjoyed rounding up monsters just as much as Grace did, and often, he would instruct her to find a certain monster, drop her off in a random city, and she would meet up with him hours later with said monster. Grace liked testing her abilities and Crowley liked training her.

All in all, they made a good team. While Crowley was most of the brains, Grace was the brawn. They butted heads all the time, as Crowley could be quite annoying, but never once in five years had Grace thought about turning around and running as far away as she could. She never thought about hiding from Crowley and she never thought about turning on him. He hadn't done anything extremely horrible to give Grace reason to rebel. She did not regret striking a deal at all.

* * *

Grace's eyes fluttered open and she stretched. At that point, she would rather have been sleeping on the bed of nails because the mattress was nearly unbearable. She looked at the clock. It read 10:23 and she threw the blankets back over her head before smelling the stale smell of scotch.

Moaning, Grace sat up and sat Crowley sitting at the small, round table in the motel room. He was flipping through a newspaper, sipping at his usual glass of scotch. When he saw she was awake, he held up another glass full of the brown liquid, motioning for her to join him.

"Happy birthday, lovely," spoke the demon and Grace nodded her head in thanks. "Going on six years with yours truly." He smiled to himself and leaned back in his chair as Grace sat down across from him and looked down at the scotch. "How does it feel?"

"Isn't it a bit early to start drinking?" slurred Grace, still exhausted from the night before. She could have slept four more years before being entirely rested.

"That has never stopped you before," teased Crowley. "Are you up for a little birthday hunting today?"

Shrugging, Grace drank her scotch quickly. It burned her throat and she put her head on the table.

"Well, don't be too excited," said Crowley, closing the newspaper. "I'd like for you to bring me two hunters. Perhaps you've heard of them." Grace lifted her head and sighed. Crowley raised an eyebrow as he observed her bedhead. "You should go get a brush."

"Fuck off," she replied harshly, flattening her hair with her hands. Crowley went back to his cheery disposition, ignoring her comment. "Who is it?"

"Sam and Dean Winchester," answered Crowley, reaching into his coat pocket and bringing out two pictures. The first was of a man smiling proudly with a thin, curved nose and long, brown hair. She tilted her head and looked at the other picture. The second man had shorter hair and an air of cockiness to him. He was smiling almost seductively in the picture and Grace looked up at Crowley.

"Winchester?" repeated Grace. "Their father - John Winchester?"

Crowley nodded.

"I know him," Grace said and Crowley grinned. "My father used to be friends with him."

"I already know that. Haven't I told you before, I already know everything about you?" Crowley beamed at her, but she wasn't in the mood for smiling. He poured her another glass of scotch and Grace didn't touch it. "I'm going to warn you now, these two boys are unlike any hunters I've ever seen."

"How so?"

"You must be extremely careful, understand?" he continued, staring her down and making sure she was listening. "If you give them any reason to mistrust you, they will kill you. Any suspicions about your motives and they will kill you, no matter what."

"No one has ever been suspicious before," retorted Grace. "I'll be fine."

"I'm telling you now, Grace, _be careful_. Just because you've got a full chest now doesn't mean you can hypnotize men with them."

Grace blushed and traced the lip of her glass with her index finger. She drank the entire thing and put it back on the table, making a disgusted face. Crowley laughed. That was the one thing Crowley would never drop and it embarrassed Grace to no end.

"Get ready. I'll be back in one hour."

* * *

John Winchester and Dale Parks.

At one point, they were a team. The best team in the country. Grace remembered seeing John all the time. He would always come over for dinner, stay a night or two in the guest room, and leave early in the morning with Dale. The two had been inseparable and Grace often referred to him as "Uncle John." Before going to bed, John Winchester would kiss Grace on the forehead as a little girl and she would get so flustered and embarrassed, that she'd run off and hide in her bedroom.

Eventually, Grace stopped seeing John at home. As she reached her teen years and high school, Dale would go out by himself. When she would ask her father what happened to Uncle John, he wouldn't reply and often times, he would get very angry and have to remove himself from the room his family was in. She never knew what happened to John. No one talked about him. It was taboo at dinner.

John Winchester ceased to exist in Grace's home and that was that.

As Grace stared into the moldy mirror of her motel room, she tried to remember everything she could about John Winchester. He was so kind to her and so loving. She wondered what happened to him after her father stopped inviting him over. Was it an argument? For safety reasons?

"Are you done checking yourself out? I'd like to talk to you."

Grace jumped and saw Crowley seated at the foot of her bed. All of her clothes and weapons were packed up in her car. She had just been waiting on him. "I'm ready."

"Great," Crowley stood up and pulled a map out of his pocket. Grace sat down beside him and looked at it carefully. Quite a few towns had been circled in red, but she had hit most of them already and taken out whatever was there. "You'll find the boys are on their way, actually. They're driving up to investigate the 'mysterious' deaths of the hunters."

"Perfect," muttered Grace, standing up. "When will they be here?"

"Very soon." Crowley was smiling at her. He stood, as well. Grace had to look up at him slightly, for he was a little less than a head taller than her. "I'll leave the rest up to you, darling. Have I told you that you're wonderful?"

Grace rolled her eyes.

"Wouldn't be able to do it without you."

"Stop."

"My favorite human."

"I'm not going to change my mind about this," scoffed Grace. "You don't have to compliment me to force me to stay. It's been almost six whole years now."

"Yes, well," Crowley shrugged, holding his hands in front of him. He winked. "I'll be checking in on you. Have fun sleeping on that mattress for a few more days."

She sighed.

"You know, the bed of nails is still an option."

"I'll pass this time."

"Understandable," he chuckled and Crowley disappeared before her eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

Hi, all! Please let me know if you like the story or not - all feedback is appreciated, good or bad. I forgot to mention that this story is almost completely AU. I mean, some things are out of order and some things I write never happened and some things that happened in the actual show, I omitted. My story, my rules. Enjoy xx

**Chapter 2:**

"I'm telling you, Sammy," Dean sighed, turning down the radio. Sam looked up from the map at his brother and furrowed his eyebrows. "A place where hunters have been disappearing? Do you really think it's safe for _more_ _hunters_ to check this place out?"

Sam shrugged innocently and folded the map up, pointing at an Exit sign towards central Ohio. "Dean, the least we could do is check it out," Sam replied and Dean rolled his eyes. "Obviously, if three hunters went missing in a single day, it's something in our department."

"Or it's something over our heads," spat Dean and Sam didn't answer. He unfolded the map again and continued to scan it quickly.

"If we can't handle it, then we can leave."

"I need a drink."

Entering the oddly quiet town, the engine to the Impala revved and window shoppers everywhere jumped and turn to face the noise. Crawling down the bumpy roads, Dean tried to spot a sketchy bar where he could drink a few beers without being noticed. However, it was hard not to be noticed - everyone walking down the street was staring at the pair of men inside the car.

Speeding up the process, Dean drove faster down the streets, throwing Sam everywhere in the passenger seat. His head hit the ceiling multiple times and he rubbed it, attempting to soothe the pain. At last, the eldest brother spotted a neat, wooden bar with flashing lights about it. He parked the car and got out, speed walking to the entrance, craving a cold one.

Sam waited behind, grabbing his computer and the maps he had brought. Shutting the car door with his hip, he followed Dean inside, sitting down in a back corner of the bar. There weren't many people inside; the people who were inside were old, single, sad looking men with cutoff shirts and watching football on the small television screens provided. As Sam set up his things, Dean ordered two beers and sent the waitress away. No one spoke until their beers were brought back and they both took a refreshing sip.

"Okay," grunted Sam, placing his beer back down and opening up all the research he had done in the past couple of days. "Three hunters by the names of Chance Terry, Noel Morin, and Hans Cooke. Disappeared within the past week. Apparently, they laid pretty low. All about thirty to forty, no past convictions - murders, hit and runs, or anything - and only one was married. Hans was married to a Lynne Cooke."

"So there's our best bet," added Dean. "I say we go see her tonight and see what we can find out. Have you found anything else weird going on besides those three hunters?"

"Nothing that has to do with us," Sam replied, pushing his hair out of his eyes. "Husband beats wife to death - 'does not regret doing so.' Always a few whack jobs - and that's it. Kinda quiet around here. Strange that three hunters were here at the same time."

"Were they friends?" Dean asked, already half finished with his beer. "Acquaintances?"

"Not entirely sure. It doesn't say if they were together last or not."

"We'll figure something out when we talk to the missus," nodded Dean, flagging the waitress down again. "Cheeseburger, Sammy?"

* * *

The purple door opened before the two men and an older, extremely depressed looking woman was staring up at them with wide eyes. Dean was the first to pull out his FBI badge. "Agents Bonham and Copeland here to find out about the disappearance of your husband - Mr. Hans Cooke?"

Mrs. Cooke began to cry loudly and somewhat ushered Dean and Sam inside her house. Pictures of the married couple were everywhere, all over the walls and framed on the mantles. The house was clean, nothing suspicious, and it smelled of lemon Pledge. Sam looked at Dean and they both wondered the same thing - did she have any idea of her husband's actual career? They seemed too normal...The older woman led them to the sitting room, where both men sat in the most comfortable chairs they had ever sat in. In a shaky voice, she offered them tea or coffee, but both politely declined. Mrs. Cooke sat down on the loveseat across from them.

"The pictures are wonderful," Sam began awkwardly, and Mrs. Cooke nodded, wiping more tears from her eyes. "How long have you been together?"

"Almost fifteen years," sniffled Mrs. Cooke. There was an awkward silence and then she spoke up again, a bit more confident. "I'm sorry, the police already came by and asked me about my husband."

Dean smiled cutely. "We're just making sure they got all the details." He cleared his throat and crossed his leg over his knee. "Our department is very thorough, Mrs. Cooke. Now, have you noticed anything weird about the days before your husband disappeared?"

Mrs. Cooke slowly shook her head, her wide eyes bloodshot and confused. "I - I don't think so."

"No strange smells?" Dean asked again.

"No."

"Did he say anything that made you nervous?" Sam tried and Mrs. Cooke thought hard.

"There was one thing," Mrs. Cooke admitted, but she seemed shy. Dean and Sam leaned forward, their faces hard and serious. "But I'm sure it was nothing. I - Hans came home from the bar one night and told me that he had seen the most peculiar thing. He - he told me that when he went out to his car, he saw a woman and a man talking quietly and then -"

"And then what?" Dean pressed.

"And then the man vanished," Mrs. Cooke looked at Dean and Dean looked at Sam. "I thought he was just drunk. But he brought it up the next morning and that was that."

"Was this right before your husband disappeared?" asked Sam.

"Oh, no," Mrs. Cooke shook her head. "That was - um, Tuesday, I think and he never came home Saturday night. Last night, I called the police because he hadn't called or anything and they came and interrogated me and now - now you're here."

"What did you husband do, Mrs. Cooke?" Dean glanced at Sam out of the corner of his eye, unsure of where his little brother was going with that question. "For a career?"

Mrs. Cooke blinked several times. "He was a businessman. Retired, but he occasionally went on business trips."

Dean's eyes widened. The poor lady didn't even know what her husband was really doing. "Did he ever come back with bruises or cuts?" Dean tried to seem professional, but the question was so abnormal that Mrs. Cooke was starting to get suspicious.

"I - why would he?" she started to cry again and Sam was getting antsy. "He was on business, not at a Fight Club."

"Right," sighed Dean. "What bar did your husband go to? Did he mention where he saw the man and woman talking?"

"Oh, the Saloon," explained Mrs. Cooke. "Just a few blocks down. It's got flashing lights and doesn't get much business. He always went there with his friends, so I assume that's where he was Tuesday night."

The pair of siblings looked at each other nodded. Dean took the lead and stood up, shaking Mrs. Cooke's hand gently. Sam followed suit. "We'll be in touch," Sam promised her and Mrs. Cooke nodded. "We'll figure out what happened to your husband, okay? Thank you for your cooperation."

In shock from the questions she had just been asked, Mrs. Cooke fell back on the couch and sobbed. Dean and Sam led themselves out of her house, speaking quietly to each other. "You think it's a demon?" Dean suggested as they shut the front door behind them and headed to the car. "Disappearing man? Possession? Makes sense, right?"

"But what kind of demon kills three hunters in a week?" Sam protested, getting into the passenger seat of the car. They both just sat in the car, their mind racing, thinking of possible creatures they could be hunting. "A powerful demon. I thought that hunters could handle that stuff."

"Hans Cooke doesn't seem like the kind of guy that would know how to take on a demon," Dean laughed. "Did you see those pictures in there? He was a family man. Probably settled down here because there isn't anything going on here that's dangerous for his wife."

"I don't know what to tell you, then," Sam sighed. "We have no physical description of the man or woman that Hans supposedly saw, I haven't smelled sulfur at all while I was here, and there's no sign of demons. It seems like that's the reasonable answer, but it just doesn't seem right."

"Well," Dean inhaled sharply through his nose and turned the key in the ignition. "Might as well check out that bar. If it doesn't get much business, then spotting an off man and woman should be easy as pie."

* * *

"Grace Parks in her natural habitat, at a bar, sipping on a gin and tonic, and flipping through a girly magazine," said a Scottish voice and Grace jumped, looking up to see Crowley seated at the table across from her. He was grinning at her, his breath smelling like scotch - it always did. "A hunter has got to keep up in the celebrity world somehow, hm?"

"It's entertaining," replied Grace calmly. "All these little shits complain about their lives. They don't even know demons or spirits or anything exist. They live an ignorant life and then die, making movies and forcing themselves to vomit all the food they eat."

"That's one way to put it," Crowley shrugged. "Have you met the Winchesters yet?"

"Not yet," she told him. Crowley didn't seem angry. He seemed bored, if anything. "Still waiting for them to pop into the bar."

"How do you know they'll come?" he asked her genuinely.

Grace put down her magazine and chuckled, staring at his confused face. "It's a run down, nearly out of business bar with cute waitresses. This place is a hunter magnet," explained Grace. "It's where I met all of the other hunters."

"I suppose you know best," teased Crowley and Grace rolled her eyes, opening her magazine again and flipping through the pictures of the unknown actors and actresses. She had no time for pop culture and she had never really been interested in it.

"Of course, I do."

"I'll let you go, then," Crowley told her and raised his eyebrows, about to disappear, but Grace stopped him.

"Have the courtesy to at least disappear outside!" she hissed. "Last time we talked in the parking lot of this place, one of the hunters saw you just magically vanish before his eyes. Have some discretion, would you?"

"You do realize that I'm a demon, right?" he laughed and Grace cocked an eyebrow at him. "I honestly don't give a damn who sees me. I could wipe them all out. Besides, are you worried about the drug addicted waitress over there who is probably already hallucinating, or the bartender who looks like he's so old his brain is deteriorating? I do what I want, love."

Grace looked down, knowing he had gone and she continued to flip through the pages of her magazine.

* * *

Dean and Sam decided to check into a motel quickly before freshening up and going out for another drink. The two twin beds were pushed oddly close together and the first thing they both did was pull them apart. "You think there's any other hunters around here?" Dean shouted from the bathroom. Sam shrugged, even though Dean could not see him.

"Even if there were, how would we find out?"

Dean sighed audibly. "Find the freaks sitting in the back corner of a sketchy bar?"

"I was thinking exactly the same thing. Are you ready?"

"Hold on, Sammy!" answered Dean. "It's been awhile since we've had a motel room where the toilet _actually_ flushes!"

* * *

Grace rested her head against the wall of the bar, hesitantly ordering her third gin and tonic. Her tolerance was shockingly high for a twenty-three year old. Crowley had been giving her glasses of scotch since she was seventeen, however, and alcohol was slightly comforting to her after so long. Hardly buzzed, the waitress brought her drink over and Grace got a good look at her. Her face was so pallid and sunken in, she assumed Crowley to be right about her drug addiction. Grace looked away, not wanting to look the waitress in the face again.

Bells rang and Grace looked up, knowing someone was walking into the bar. Two men walked in, bowlegged and strong. The corners of her lips turned upwards. Oh, this was just getting easier and easier. The taller man and Grace locked eyes for a split second as the two sat down at a corner table of the bar. Grace looked back at her gin and tonic and sipped it casually.

Those were the Winchesters for sure. She did not need the photographs to compare. She could see John Winchester in their faces and the resemblance was slightly scary. It had been such a long time since she had seen Uncle John that she almost forgot what he looked like. She had to concentrate really hard to remember the exact detail of his face, which she had been so in love with as a little girl.

Wonderful.

* * *

"What about her?" Dean jerked his thumb towards Grace, who wasn't looking at either of them. "Sitting in the back corner of a sketchy bar by herself? Slight bruising on her jaw?"

"How -"

"Already checked her out as soon as I walked in," Dean grinned and ordered a beer for him and his brother. Sam glanced at Grace, who looked towards him again and Sam quickly looked away, his face turning red. "Hunter or not?"

"I say, if she is, then we let her approach us," whispered Sam and Dean nodded, grabbing his beer from the waitresses hand and chugging nearly half the bottle. Sam let his sit for a moment as he stared at Grace again.

Dean looked over his shoulder and looked Grace up and down. She knew they were staring at her, but was focusing intently on her nails and the magazine cover, not wanting to look back at them. "She looks damn familiar," thought Dean aloud. Sam looked at him and raised an eyebrow.

"I've never seen her before in my life," Sam said.

"No, I don't think I have either," chuckled Dean, looking back at his brother. "But there's just something about her that makes me think of dad."

"Dad?"

Dean shook his head. "I can't remember." He exhaled loudly from his nose and stood up, the chair legs scraping against the wooden ground and screeching. Dean winced slightly.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked quickly, motioning for Dean to sit back down.

"I'm gonna buy her a drink," Dean scoffed. "See if I can find out something about her. Plus, she's a good looking girl."

* * *

Grace shifted awkwardly as Dean walked towards her, a seductive grin on his face. She looked away and rolled her eyes as he approached her table and leaned against it, his face uncomfortably close to her's. "Hello, Dean." Grace smiled and Dean's eyes widened. He looked around and next thing she knew, she was being splashed with holy water. "I'm not a demon," she growled. "I'm a human, so don't splash me again."

"How do you know who I am?" Dean pursed his lips and furrowed his eyebrows.

She chuckled. "You look just like your father," she replied. "I'm Grace Parks."

"Dale - Uncle Dale's kid?" inquired Dean and she nodded with a curt smile. Dean turned to Sam, who was watching him, and he waved his younger brother over and pulled a chair up next to Grace. "You're the spitting image. I haven't seen Uncle Dale in so long."

"Neither have I," admitted Grace as Sam pulled up another chair and sat across from her. "He died when I was seventeen."

"Hunting accident?" asked Sam and Grace nodded slowly, looking away from them both. "I'm so sorry."

"How's Uncle John?" Neither Dean nor Sam answered and Grace knew what that meant. She felt her heart become heavy with sadness, but shook the feeling off and sighed.

"What are you doing here?" Sam said and Grace shrugged.

"Three hunters have gone missing in a week," she grinned. "You don't find that suspicious? Of course, I'm going to come and check it out."

"You're a hunter now?" Dean sounded awfully impressed and he nodded his head, looking at Sam.

"It's all I know," said Grace honestly. "I went out on my first case when I was seventeen with my dad. What are you two doing here?"

"Same thing," responded Dean smugly.

Grace's smile did not leave her face. She traced the lip of the glass with her index finger and nodded. "Out of all the cities in the world and we meet here," she joked. "Must be _fate_ or _destiny_," she added dramatically.

"Yeah, well," Dean shrugged. "You got anything on the three hunters?"

"Not much," Grace lied and she drank the rest of her gin and tonic. "I'm on a personal break right now. I have a few suspicions, but nothing really to work on. Do you know what took them?"

"We think demons," Sam told her. "But we're not entirely sure. We need more information before trying to find it. We don't want to be the next hunters missing."

"Hm," hummed Grace. "Can't be demons. No sulfur anywhere - I already looked around nearly the entire town, places the hunters were spotted, and their homes. I've searched in every empty warehouse I could find and there were no signs of blood or vengeful spirits or anything. I don't know what it is."

Dean and Sam thought hard. "We just visited the one hunter's wife - Cooke. Had no idea that he was a hunter," Dean told her and Grace raised her eyebrows and nodded, laughing to herself. Dean was quite proud of himself for some reason. "Told his wife he saw a man disappear in the parking lot at this bar after talking to some lady."

Grace mentally swore at Crowley. "Odd," was all she had to say. "I've researched all the deaths in this town already. No reason for any spirit to be vengeful. No reason for any spirit to take hunters."

"She's right," Sam interrupted. "I checked the records before we got here and there is absolutely nothing."

"Werewolf?" suggested Dean. "Vamps?"

"Highly unlikely," Grace shot back. "If it were werewolves, there would be a lot more deaths and a lot more blood. Same thing with vampires. They'd need more people to feed, not just three old hunters."

"Then I, for once, am completely stumped," admitted Dean.

"Dude, come on," Sam sighed. "It's probably the most obvious thing. Most likely right in front of our faces. What aren't we getting?"

The two ran hands through her hair as Grace smiled at them both. Oh, how right they were.


	3. Chapter 3

Another chapter! Yes, I'm home sick and I've got quite a bit of this story planned out already, so I'm very excited. Enjoy this chapter! Feedback is appreciated, good or bad! I'd love to know what I'm doing right, but also how I can fix that which isn't so well written. xx

**Chapter 3:**

One thing that Crowley particularly liked about Grace Parks was her wonderful ability to lie with such ease. It was like a gift. She did not have a nervous twitch when she lied, nothing she did was out of the ordinary. She could look a man dead in the eye and he would never be able to figure out if she was lying or not. Sometimes Grace would add onto the lie, really selling her story, but sometimes, she would keep it short and simple and end it. There was always reasoning behind her lie incase someone tried to call her out. Even Crowley himself would not be able to know if she was lying, but he trusted her all the same.

So when Grace convinced Dean and Sam that she was hunting whatever it was that killed the three hunters, they believed her without even considering it. She made it seem like she had done research by explaining there had been no sulfur, and she bought them drinks and talked about their fathers for such a long time. She was beginning to befriend them, but if she had learned at least one thing from Crowley about the two men, it was that they were dangerous. Grace had to make sure she didn't slip up at all or else she was dead - greatest hunter or not.

Grace left the bar around ten o'clock at night. The fresh air was cool against her face, which was a bit sweaty. She half-expected to see Crowley outside the door, waiting to speak with her, but he was nowhere in sight, so Grace continued down the sidewalk back to her motel, only a block away. It made her nervous when she noticed that hardly anyone was outside. Perhaps it was the time, but it still unnerved her. In most cities she traveled to, no one slept. Now everyone was sleeping.

As she walked past an alleyway, she heard the slight crunch of a footstep on gravel. She froze and her ears perked up almost cat-like. She looked down the alley, not able to see anything, and pulled a gun from her waistband, cocking it and walking slowly towards the noise. Paranoid that whatever was hiding was coming for her, she called out, "Hello?"

It was a bad idea. Someone grabbed her by the arm and slammed her on the ground, knocking the wind out of her. She gasped and stood up, looking for her gun, which had been knocked from her hand and was now lost in the eerie darkness. Capable of seeing only a shadowy figure, Grace ducked as the stranger threw a punch at her and lunged for her gun. Caught by the hair, Grace whimpered and turned around, landing a strong punch on the shadow's jaw. While the man did not move or wince, Grace yelped out in pain, feeling as if all her knuckles had been broken simultaneously. Still being tugged by her long hair, she rubbed her swollen knuckles and received a blow to the stomach, causing her to cough up blood.

Grace rubbed her swollen knuckles and was pushed up against the brick wall of a nearby building, blood pooling in her mouth. The metallic taste made her sick. By the faint light of a streetlamp, she saw the man's face for the first time. There was no bruise or mark where she had struck him. His blue eyes were cold and his face covered in stubble. His large hands were on her forearms, making sure she didn't throw any more punches.

She spit blood from her mouth and it landed on his trench coat. Grace smiled a bloody smile, revealing red teeth, as he pinned her against the wall harder, his arm against her windpipe. She stared directly into his eyes, terrified on the inside, but she kept an unusually calm exterior. This thing wasn't human and she knew it. What kind of creature was it? He was so strong - strong enough to not be phased by Grace's somewhat enhanced strength.

"I know who you are and what you do, Grace Parks," muttered the man. His voice was flat and angry. Grace was panting and heaving, trying to catch her breath and not be choked to death. She narrowed her eyes. "Have you no soul? Hunting humans for revenge? All to avenge one death? You sicken me."

Her lips now quivering, Grace asked quietly, "How do you know me?"

The man hesitated, his eyes never leaving her's for a second. "I am an angel of the Lord," he replied, tilting his head slowly as if she was supposed to know that. Grace squirmed under his grasp, feeling her blood beginning to boil. He pressed harder against her neck. She tensed and tried to pull his arm off her, but he did not budge. "I was not in on your father's death, Grace."

Grace paused and looked him over again quickly. Something about him didn't seem right. Maybe it was the lack of emotions on his face. Maybe it was the intimidating stare he gave.

"I know who you work with and I know of your plan." There was a short silence as the angel made her feel incredibly weak and small. Crowley hadn't taught her how to deal with angels safely, for they were extremely dangerous to Grace as well as the demon. She now intended to learn all she could about angels from Crowley when she met up with him again. "You stop hunting Dean and Sam and I won't inform them of your history and your plan. You refuse to accept my offer, I will kill you."

"I know people that could kill you," she gasped, spitting out more blood. Grace was certainly in terrible shape, but she knew the angel was not intending to heal her. Knowing that killing her right there would be crossing the line, the angel went easy on her, although still nearly beating her to death.

"People?" repeated the angel. "Hardly. Demons are not people, Grace. They're monsters. Evil creatures."

Grace scoffed. "Then what do you call yourself? You're a monster, too. You're all monsters!"

"What do you get out of this?" he shouted in her face and she smiled weakly again. She faked confidence and sureness, but was almost positive the angel could see right through her. "A little more strength, some company - but bound to a demon forever? Has it been worth it?"

Flaring her nostrils, Grace stood her nose as high up in the air as she could. "Absolutely worth it. I've gotten revenge on the hunters that killed my father. They're dead now - dead for murdering an innocent man in bed along with his wife. For leaving me alone on my own. I wouldn't have it any other way."

"What has he done to you?" hissed the angel harshly. "Crowley?"

Grace felt so helpless at the moment. She was losing her mind - all of her blood, too. Even though all of her muscles and bones and joints ached, Grace was trying her best to seem the strongest she could possibly be. "Crowley hasn't done anything to me," she laughed to herself, spitting out more blood. "He has given me everything I wished for and, for that, I am eternally grateful to him."

"A lifetime bound to a demon and then an eternity in Hell?" The angel and Grace locked eyes for a long time and she blinked slowly, struggling to stay awake with the lack of oxygen. "Sounds like the perfect way to live your life."

"You don't know what I've been through. You may know of me, but you have no idea what I feel. You don't know anything but what I do."

"I'll tell you this, Grace," barked the angel. "You touch either Dean or Sam Winchester, I'll kill you myself and send you down to Hell where you truly belong."

She laughed again, delirious. "I'm _respected_ down in Hell, don't you understand? That wouldn't be punishment! I say the word to Crowley and you've got an army of demons on your ass."

"Sounds like you've got someone to fight all your battles for you." The angel loosened his grip on Grace, realizing how blue her face was turning. Her windpipe opened up and she fell to her knees and breathed deeply, trying to get as much air as possible. "Has no one taught you to handle angels?"

Grace was silent. On her hands and knees, she spit out the rest of the blood in her mouth and stared at the ground.

"If you continue to pursue them, I will destroy you, because I know how." The angel got down on one knee and lifted her face so she was looking at him. Their faces were so close, their noses almost touched. "Do not test me."

There was the noise of flapping wings and the angel was gone. Grace laid down on the ground, coughing up more blood and wiping it off her mouth. She closed her eyes and felt rough arms pulling her to her feet.

"Quite an injury you've got there," said Crowley, pulling a handkerchief out of his back pocket and wiping her mouth. Fading in and out of consciousness, she paid no attention to what her friend had to say. Her heart was racing and making her head hurt. Everything was spinning and she closed her eyes, wanting the feeling to go away. "All right, hold on, sweetheart." With a hand on her shoulder, Crowley transported them both back to Grace's motel room and he laid her down on her bed.

"Why didn't you come earlier?" she moaned, still trying to control and regulate her breathing.

Crowley scoffed and laughed sarcastically. "_Hello_? That man could kill me!"

"He almost killed _me_!" protested Grace.

"Yes, well, he didn't, and that's the good thing," answered Crowley. "A glass of scotch will fix everything."

"Is that your solution?" Grace retorted. "I'm bleeding from my mouth and you think a glass of scotch will heal that?"

"Maybe not, but it'll dull the pain, my love." Crowley poured her a large glass of scotch and even though it was stupid, Grace took it and drank it. The scotch mixed with her blood and formed a disgusting taste in the back of her throat. She coughed and spluttered, putting her drink down. "So you found the boys?"

"They came to me," Grace replied, her temples throbbing. She squeezed her eyes shut tight and rubbed her head. "And I think I've earned their trust already. It'll be difficult with that angel."

"I agree," thought Crowley. "We need to take the angel out before getting to the boys."

"I don't even know how to kill an angel," Grace sighed, sitting up to the best of her ability. She groaned and drank more scotch.

"It's hard, I'll tell you that," Crowley answered truthfully. "Only a few things can really kill an angel. There's a - an angel sword that'll kill angels, demons, Hellhounds... whatever. There's Death's Scythe - that'll even kill Death himself. It's extremely difficult, especially when you're not an angel."

"What do I do?" frowned Grace.

"This is what you do. I'm going to cover your motel room in Enochian Sigils and that'll protect you from the freak if he decides to sneak up on you one night. And you should probably draw an Banishing Sigil above your bed or somewhere easy to get to in case he ends up in here somehow."

Grace stared at Crowley as he paced back and forth in her motel room. "I'm sorry," she chuckled nervously. "You want me to kill an angel?"

Crowley gave her a blank stare. "Yeah. Would you like me to say 'please'?"

"I - I - I just don't know how that'll happen," Grace continued, quite confused. "I mean, I can't even hurt him. I punched him in the jaw and I'm pretty sure my hand is broken!" She held up her swollen hand, which was all shades of purple, blue, and green. Crowley flinched, a bit disgusted. "See? There's absolutely no way I can kill him!"

"Well, I'll _help_," answered Crowley. "You think I would just sit back and watch while this ass beats up my best weapon? Positively not."

Grace was laughing and Crowley stared at her. He narrowed his eyes and frowned. "This is the first time you've helped me hunt in six whole years," she stumbled over her words. "Why are the Winchesters so important to you?"

Crowley grinned. "That's for me to know and for you to find out."

Tracing her top row of teeth with her tongue, Grace accepted his answer. "What's the plan?"

* * *

Grace agreed to meet Dean and Sam at a small diner by their motel two days after her meeting with the angel. She agreed right away, knowing that she needed more time with the boys if she was going to earn their trust. At nine o'clock in the morning on a beautiful Wednesday, Grace strolled into the diner, heading straight towards the back, where she knew her new friends would be seated.

"What happened to you?" Dean asked harshly as Grace sat down across from him at the table. Sam was on her right , staring intensely at her split lip and black eye. Grace cleared her throat and Sam looked away and out the window. Dean focused his eyes on the menu in front of him.

"Got a little too drunk the other night," sighed Grace, as if remembering it. She shuddered and Sam frowned. "Threw one or two punches at another drunk man. Got one or two punches back."

"Damn," smiled Dean. "You're tougher than I imagined."

"Yeah, yeah," Grace waved him off impatiently and set her hands down on the table, shaking it. The two brothers looked at her as she grinned at both of them. "I think I've got an idea about what's going on around here. I spent all of last night researching everything you could ever imagine."

Interested, Sam and Dean leaned in, raising their eyebrows, ready for Grace's suggestion. Dean prayed to himself it wasn't something obvious because he wasn't ready to be outsmarted by a girl. He chuckled to himself. He probably knew more about cars than she did. Probably more about girls. Nodding and smiling, he noticed that both Grace and Sam were staring at him. "You okay?" Sam asked his brother.

"Yeah, fine," Dean replied, licking his lips. "Just thinking. Go ahead, Grace."

"Angels."

"Angels?" The two asked at the same time. Only Sam continued, "What makes you think that?"

Grace answered right away. "All three hunters were extremely strong - I talked to friends of them and other hunters. They were well known to the east coast hunters, anyway. My best guess is that if nothing was left behind, then it's angels, because they can clean up their messes. They lead these hunters to their death, knowing they're getting too strong."

"Why would angels want to just gank random hunters?" Dean questioned, scratching the back of his neck, but considering her suggestion. "I mean, that's kind of unholy, isn't it?"

Grace shrugged. "Not all angels are good, Dean, just like not all demons are bad." Dean thought about what she had just said and it made no sense to him, but he shook the odd feeling off his shoulders. "If the angels feel threatened by hunters, they'd attack, right?"

"So you're saying we've got to kill an evil angel?" Sam repeated and Grace glanced at him from the corner of her eye.

"Can you handle that?" Grace lowered her voice and spoke directly to Sam. He felt slightly vulnerable after speaking to him the way she did. "If you don't think you can, it's only ten miles until the next city."

"N - no, no," Sam smiled a small smile, shaking his hair and pushing it out of his eyes. "We can handle it. I'm sure we've handled much worse."

"How do we kill it?" asked Dean.

"Angel sword," explained Grace quickly. "It'll kill angels, demons, Hellhounds, and archangels. Most angels carry them all the time."

"So how do we get one?" Dean said again.

"That's the fun," grinned Grace and Dean nodded. "Once we get an angel sword, we can 'gank' the angel that's committing all these murders after we find out why."

"Sounds fun to me," Dean agreed and he raised his hand, waiting for a waitress to come take their order. When he got one to notice, he cleared his throat as Grace stood up and went to leave. "Hey, hey, hey - where are you going?"

"Back to my motel," she smiled nervously and shrugged. "I thought we were done discussing things."

"That doesn't mean you've got to miss breakfast," Dean pointed at the seat she was just in and she hesitated, but sat back down beside Sam. She looked over the menu and Dean suggested the bacon out of everything on the menu. Grace went along with him and ordered. "Breakfast is on us." Dean winked and took a large sip of coffee, smacking his lips loudly.

"Thanks," she muttered sincerely, sighing happily.

"So where've you been hiding all this time?" Sam began.

"All around the country."

"Do tell."

* * *

Grace was told thousands of times by her mother's friends that she would always miss high school. She was told when she graduated and finally got out of school, she would want nothing more than to go back to it. As a twenty-three year old, she still hated high school. Thoughts of high school haunted her. Rumors spread about her father, who was absent most of the time. Rumors spread about her, that she was crazy. She would dream that her classmates were creatures that she could shoot. Grace didn't have friends all throughout high school. She didn't want people to know the truth. When counselors would ask what she wanted to be when she grew up, all she would say was, "I want to be like my dad." No one asked any further questions because she wouldn't give any further explanation.

She got back to her motel around seven o'clock in the evening after a very eventful day. She was exhausted, physically and mentally. She had gone out for breakfast with the people she was supposed to be hunting, they went out for a drink and for lunch, and she and Dean had a very exciting conversation about Bob Seger and AC/DC. After grabbing burgers at a local place, she said her goodbyes and went back to her temporary home.

In high school, Grace never went out. She never did things like that. She had gone out on a few dates after high school, but nothing special. Her career made it impossible to have a regular relationship. However, after going out for the whole day, she wondered why she hadn't done it more while she was in school. It was fun. It was relaxing. It was the best time she had in a long time.

She almost felt bad that she was leading her new friends to their death. Grace had made the mistake of getting too close to the Winchesters and there was a pain in her chest when she thought of them dead and cold on the ground, struck down by Crowley. She laid down in bed and closed her eyes, breathing out slowly.

What was so important about Dean and Sam that they had an angel protecting them? Did everyone have that? And why did Crowley want them so badly? Badly enough that he was willing to help Grace with his own assignment. It made no sense to her, so she decided to try and sleep on it.

* * *

Grace's dreams were always the same. She was always alone in her old home, her parents gone, with no trace that they had ever been killed. Outside of the windows, it was grey and gloomy and whatever she did, she could not leave the house. She would run around the hallways and staircases until her legs ached in her sleep and finally, Grace was sit on the couch and read a book or watch television. No one ever bothered her in her dream. Except for that night.

A man in a trench coat was standing by an armchair across the room Grace was sitting in. It was the angel she had met the other night, who had almost killed her. Knowing it was just a dream, she relaxed and stared at him. He looked conflicted, not quite sure what to say to her.

Finally, his gravelly voice filled her ears. "Why would you do it?"

Grace took her time answering, examining every inch of his body. He was an extremely handsome man, but Grace ignored that thought. "Why would I do what?" she asked innocently.

"Sell yourself to Crowley."

"If demons had killed my parents, I would have bargained with an angel," she replied shortly. "Crowley has never given me trouble in my entire life."

"Crowley is not the only demon in the world," the angel pointed out. "And I'm sure Crowley is not the way he seems to everybody else in the world."

"You know nothing."

"I know more than you - that, I am sure of."

"This isn't real." Grace shook her head and laughed quietly, looking away from the man. "I'm having a conversation with myself right now. This isn't real..."

"This is real, Grace," he replied. "I've come to speak with you and since I can't get into your motel room, I'll speak with you in your dream."

"You can do that?" she stood from the couch. "You just walked into my dream?"

The man nodded slowly. "Yes."

"Then what are you here for? We just talked," Grace shouted. "Get out of here!"

"I'm curious, is all," the angel admitted. "I just can't understand how you can do the things you do so naturally. What did he promise you, Grace? What did Crowley promise to give you in return for doing his dirty work?"

"Nothing," lied Grace.

The angel was silent. He held his hands behind his back. "The least you could do is answer my question honestly," he sighed. "I am not here to punish you for your actions. Not this time."

Grace paused, considering lying again. Was it possible that the angel knew before she even spoke that she was lying? Maybe just not answering would be better for her. She kept her mouth shut. "Who are you?" she whispered, narrowing her eyes at him. "Who are you really?"

The angel blinked slowly. "My name is Castiel," he replied. "And I am an angel."

"What do you want from me?"

"These people you are hunting, they are not evil. They are not turning against anyone. I can help you find the angels that conspired against your father, if you decide to trust me."

"How can I know you won't kill me?" Grace looked around quickly, over her shoulders and through the archway into the kitchen. "Are we safe here?"

"No one else can hear us," Castiel told her. "Crowley cannot listen in on our conversation. It's your mind. It's your dream. To answer your question truthfully, you don't know I won't kill you. But harming you is not my intention."

"It was clearly intended during our last meeting, if I recall correctly," scoffed Grace.

"I had misjudged you," frowned Castiel. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry for almost killing me?"

Castiel tilted his head, slightly confused. "Yes."

"If you help me find the angels that helped murder my parents, I'll convince Crowley not to kill Sam and Dean."

"I highly doubt that you would have much influence on Crowley's decision as to whether they live or not," Castiel pointed out and Grace crossed her arms. "If I help you, then you cannot hunt Dean and Sam any longer."

"Right," she muttered and as Castiel disappeared, she called out for him, but found herself awake in the darkness of her motel room.


	4. Chapter 4

Hi guys! This chapter is pretty much only Grace and Crowley centered as it gives a little more background on their relationship and whatnot. Thought it was a fun chapter to write. Please let me know how you like it or dislike it – I'd love to know! Enjoy!

**Chapter 4:**

"Taking a break, I see?"

Grace threw her french fry down and looked up, obviously irritated that Crowley had shown up unannounced. All she wanted was a hot meal by herself - not with Dean, not with Sam, and especially not with Crowley. She was tired of the jokes and the light-heartedness that Crowley always threw her way and she just wanted to listen to the complete silence for once with no one bothering her. She wiped the grease off her fingers with a paper napkin and held her breath, leaning back in her booth. "I'm eating," she spat and Crowley smiled innocently at her. "Can I have twenty minutes, please?"

Crowley looked as though he were considering it, but Grace went back to eating her french fries. She totally ignored Crowley, even as he said, "Nope." He, himself, picked up a menu and looked down through the choices, scrunching his nose. "I thought I'd take the day off, as well."

"How many vacation days have you got left?" Grace asked, rather uninterested in him. "Hopefully, not many?"

"Actually -" Crowley faked a loud, hacking cough and sniffled as everyone turned their heads to watch the scene. "I called in sick today. I brought us a drink, by the way."

Grace stared at him, exhaling loudly, and Crowley sensed the frustration. He reached down under the table and there was the clinking of glass. Crowley pulled up two small glasses and an unopened bottle of scotch, filling Grace's before his own. She didn't speak to him, so he called over the waitress and ordered the exact same thing as Grace - cheeseburger and french fries. This irritated her even more because she knew he was doing it to get her riled up. "Do you want something?"

Crowley's smug grin remained on his face. He rested his elbows on the table and held his head up. "What happened to us, Grace?" he asked with a sigh. "We used to be so close."

Picking up her glass of Craig, she drank it quickly, trying to get drunk enough to be able to tolerate Crowley's presence. "Why are you here?" she repeated, staring him down. "I just need some peace and quiet. Alone time. Me time."

"For your 'me time,' you go to a crappy diner?" Crowley looked around the place, pursing his lips and proving himself right. The floors were dirty and the tables still had crumbs and stains. The booths were falling apart and even Grace's table was wobbly and unstable. "No matter. Can't I spend some time with my favorite person?"

Grace scoffed. "Does your favorite person happen to be me?"

"Lucky guess!" Crowley nodded and winked at her. "You should feel honored, anyway. You're one of my favorite people - and that's out of demons, angels, and other creatures."

"Are humans in the 'other creatures' category?" said Grace.

"Yep." He popped the 'p' at the end of his answer.

"You were human once," Grace pointed out.

"And it was awful, I'll tell you," Crowley responded immediately, his cheery disposition making Grace want to vomit. She was in no mood for happy or cheerful thoughts. "Being King of the Crossroads is much, much better."

Grace smiled for the first time since he had appeared. "You're probably just happy you don't have to wear a skirt anymore."

"Not a skirt!" protested Crowley. "A _kilt_. And I've told you before - athletic calves."

"I'm sure," Grace joked and she continued picking at her food. "You must have been quite the looker."

"Better than this," Crowley told her, looking down at his vessel in disgust. "You don't think I actually looked anything like this?"

"I always thought your vessel was the perfect match."

"Oh, God!" Crowley rolled his eyes. "Remind me to find a more - _handsome _- vessel in order to accommodate to your interests."

"That would be absolutely wonderful."

"It'll be sad, though, I imagine," sighed Crowley. "Leaving this vessel. It's like shedding your skin. Moving from your own home. Perhaps I'll keep him."

"Make up your mind for once, would you?" Grace snorted.

"Always so bitter," Crowley grinned as his food was set in front of him. He clapped his hands together and his eyes widened. "Thank you, darling. Bring some ketchup, won't you?"

The waitress nodded and walked away to retrieve a ketchup bottle. After she brought it back for him, Grace drank the rest of her glass and nodded towards the scotch. "Fill me up," she muttered and Crowley did as she ordered. "Thanks."

For a few minutes, the two of them ate in silence, occasionally glancing out the window. Grace especially kept her eyes open, watching for either Dean, Sam, or the angel - Castiel. That reminded her - she couldn't decide if she should tell Crowley about Castiel visiting her in her dream. Of course, Crowley would want to help her, but angels were strong. Castiel could destroy her by snapping his fingers and that was the last thing she wanted. So she stayed silent.

"So..." Grace started awkwardly, tapping her fingernails on the table. The silence was too uncomfortable for her, but she didn't know how to start a conversation. She took another shot of scotch, hoping to relieve the tension. Crowley squeezed the ketchup bottle and it made a loud sound. "How are... you?"

"Very well, thank you," Crowley replied, looking up from his food at her. He didn't ask how she was doing, so she rolled her eyes, expecting him to be able to carry a conversation. "I thought we might go on a field trip today. Some bonding time."

"I don't think I'll be able to make it." Grace faked a small cough and tilted her head, smiling angrily. "I think I've got what you have."

"Don't be this way, sweetheart," Crowley pouted, wiping his mouth with his napkin. "I was nearly positive you would be eager to accompany me to Hell today."

"Hell?" hissed Grace. "No. I've told you, I won't go there for any reason that's not dying."

Crowley shrugged. "Thought I'd give you the tour - free of charge, of course. After all, I've already got your soul - what more could I take?" He chuckled to himself, but Grace didn't find it funny one bit. "Introduce you to a few big fish and get you comfortable with the place. What do you say? It'll be fun. They'll all _love_ you down under."

"My idea of 'fun' is not wandering through Hell with you," she said sharply. "Sorry."

"Ooh, I feel the coldness of your heart," Crowley teased, wrapping his arms around himself and pretending to shiver. "That hurts, Grace. I thought we were on better terms than that. More scotch?"

Grace nodded and both glasses were refilled. "I'm just not in the mood today," continued Grace, eating the rest of her burger and letting out a satisfied sigh. "I was out drinking late last night."

"So drink up, drink up!" Crowley topped off her glass full of scotch and pushed it closer to her with a simple wave of his hand. "The only way to cure a hangover is to keep drinking. Who were you out with, anyway?"

"Sam and Dean," replied Grace, taking Crowley's advice and drinking even more. Her throat was beginning to burn and go numb. "I don't remember climbing into bed last night."

"So _that's_ your idea of fun," Crowley said, smacking his lips. "At least taking a tour of Hell won't give you a pounding headache in the morning."

Grace made a face at him and Crowley laughed out loud, drawing the attention of most of the diner.

"Oh, how I love thee, child," sighed Crowley contently. He bit into his burger, finishing the last half of it quickly. "I've known and dealt with a fair share of humans in my day, but yes, you're my favorite."

"I'm flattered," Grace shot back. "Do I get a medal? Or a plaque? I'll hang it on my wall."

"I'm sure I could get one made," Crowley shrugged and thought seriously for a second. "It's all about who you know down there. I've noticed your black eye is looking much better."

"Thanks," replied Grace. "Had you come for me a few seconds sooner, I might not have this."

"Rather you than me, right?" smiled Crowley and Grace scoffed, rolling her eyes again. Seeing that she was not amused, Crowley kept going. "The important thing is that I actually came at all. Could've left you to die in the alley, hm?"

"The angel wouldn't have cared."

"Castiel is like that," Crowley explained. "Too much affection for the Winchester duo, let me tell you. He's blinded by human emotions."

"Wait - you know him?"

"Of course," nodded Crowley excitedly. "Known him for a long, long time. I haven't been around as long as he has, old bastard, but it's been - oh, about 800 years, maybe?"

"Did you know he was going to come after me?"

"He had suggested it before."

"And you didn't warn me?"

"As I recall, you _didn't die_. Doesn't that count for something?"

Grace's eyes widened. "You're an ass," she whispered, waving the waitress down for the check. "You're paying for this." She took a swig of her scotch and debated pouring another glass.

"With what money?" Crowley raised an eyebrow and Grace wanted to punch the smile off his face. "I'm a demon. Why would I need money?"

Grace stood up and pulled some cash out of her pocket. She slammed it on the table and pointed her finger at him. "You better pay for me next time you decide to pop in," she told him quietly and stormed towards the door, slamming it shut behind her.

Crowley took his time drinking the last of the scotch as the waitress returned to the table, picking up the cash and recounting it. "She yours?" the woman asked Crowley, eyeing the empty bottle sitting in front of her. She looked over the dollar bills at Crowley, who was smiling and staring at the spot Grace had just been.

"You could say that." He cleared his throat and stood up. "Should probably go after her. Wouldn't want her to be angry with me for the rest of eternity."

"Doesn't look like she'll want to spend eternity with you after that," the woman retorted.

Crowley smirked and laughed to himself. "She never did in the first place."

* * *

For a short while after her parents were killed, Grace lived in her own house. She loved running down the creaky, wooden staircase in the morning; she loved rummaging through the high cabinets for breakfast food; she loved sitting on the loveseat in her living room, flipping through the television channels. Crowley would check in on her sometimes while she was sleeping to make sure she was still alive and he'd even visit for dinner sometimes. He would never admit it to anybody, but Grace's cooking was one of his favorite things.

She missed staying at the house. She missed sitting at the circle table in her kitchen for meals. She missed shooting rifles in the backyard. She missed sleeping in her own bed. But she missed having a home the most. Grace was constantly moving around; the only stability and consistency in her life was Crowley's presence.

Even though Grace and Crowley butted heads often and rarely ever spoke kindly to each other, they each harbored a secret fondness for one another. After all, Crowley had been helpful to Grace. He had given her what she wanted, promised revenge on her parents' murder, and agreed to help her along the way instead of just giving her ten years and leaving. Part of her enjoyed when he would show up at her house for dinner because she hated being alone for so long. That was most of the reason she adored Crowley - he never left her alone for too long. She knew he would always be back and she needed the companionship Crowley gave her.

As for Crowley, Grace was not just his project or weapon, she was a wonderful human being. She could sometimes match his own wit, she was intelligent and sincere, always speaking whatever was on her mind, knowing Crowley's feelings wouldn't get hurt. While his slight affection for Grace was not causing him to have a change of heart, no one cared. They worked well together as a team and the hundreds of thousands of demons in Hell paid no attention to Grace. Crowley did not speak of her while down below, just as Grace had never told anyone about Crowley.

Crowley had taken on the responsibility of training and raising her after her father's life was cut short and six years after the incident, their bond was still prolific. Grace got what she wanted out of the deal and Crowley got what he wanted, so neither turned their back on the other. Grace had never even thought about rebelling. She never thought once of breaking the deal. There was nothing in it for her.

As far as Grace was concerned, she was going to be with Crowley for the rest of her life and the rest of her afterlife.

* * *

"_Shoot me."_

"_What?"_

"_Shoot me!"_

"_No!"_

"_It's not going to hurt - you know that!"_

"_I'm not shooting you!"_

"_Grace, I swear to -"_

_There was a loud gunshot and the barrel of 18-year-old Grace's rifle was smoking. She had fired a bullet directly at Crowley's chest and he was now bleeding, smiling at her, not in any pain. "Did that hurt?" she shouted, hoping Crowley could hear her from the other end of the yard. Her ears were still ringing. _

_Crowley shook his head. "I'm a demon, love," he laughed. "Perfect." He gave her the thumbs up and she sighed, trying to slow her rapid heartbeat. He stalked over to her, wiping the blood from his shirt. "Great shot."_

"_Thanks," said Grace breathily. "Wasn't hard to miss."_

_Crowley looked at her through half open eyes and smirked. "Was that a fat joke?"_

_Grace grinned. _

"_You've hurt my feelings now," Crowley pouted and Grace put her gun down, wiping off some dust and grass. "Just because I'm dead doesn't mean I can't hurt."_

_Grace rolled her eyes. _

* * *

"_Culinary arts may have been a safer career choice for you, you know," Crowley said as the now 19-year-old opened the lid of a steaming hot pan with marinated chicken in it. He licked his lips, excited for his dinner. He was never hungry - _never _- until Grace was making him food. "Maybe then you'd be making dinner for a happy husband and not a centuries old demon. Ever thought of that?"_

_Grace loaded up two plates full of food - chicken, potatoes, green beans, and corn - and sat them down at the circle dinner table placed in the corner of the kitchen. Crowley had provided the scotch, even though Grace wasn't of drinking age. He poured them both a glass. "I've never been the domestic housewife type," Grace answered, her mouth full of green beans. "Besides, the only reason I cook now is because I know _you're_ not going to make me dinner."_

"_You've got years ahead of you," Crowley raised his eyebrows and continued. "If I made dinner, I might end up poisoning you. By accident, of course."_

"_That bad?"_

_Crowley winked. "Lucky for me, I found a girl who _was_ quite the domestic housewife."_

* * *

_Grace celebrated her 21st birthday in a dumpy motel room with her one and only, Crowley. He had brought several bottles of whiskey and scotch, but only drank from one of them - his precious Craig. He poured shot after shot for Grace and was very amused as she continued to get drunker and drunker. Eventually, she had to sit down on the floor and take shots because she couldn't stand. While Crowley wasn't even buzzed, he kept feeding her, forcing her to eat bread in between every few shots. _

"_Why isn't there anything on TV?" she slurred, flipping through the three channels the motel had. "It's all _porn_!"_

"_Maybe you _should_ watch some," teased Crowley. "You haven't gotten any in how long? Might be good for you."_

"_You bastard." She shut the television off and eyed him carefully, trying to seem intimidating. Crowley was grinning at her, his eyebrows raised, sipping at his scotch. Grace rubbed her temples and burped, swallowing her vomit. Crowley scrunched his nose, pulling the trash can over to her, afraid she was going to throw all the alcohol back up. Then he'd actually have to take care of her and he really didn't want to stay for the whole night. "When was the last time _you_ even got any? 300 years ago?"_

"_Ouch!" chuckled Crowley. "My poor heart is hurting!"_

_There was a splashing sound and Crowley looked down to see Grace hurling her guts out in the trash bin. She must have thrown up about six times in a row, but Crowley wasn't counting. He was holding his nose, as the smell was absolutely horrid. He waited patiently for Grace to stop and once she did, she looked up at Crowley and shook her head. "I hate you," she rasped, throwing up again._

_Crowley shook his head with a smile. _

"_I knew -" Splash. "This - was - a -" Splash. "Bad i - id - idea." Splash. It kept coming and finally, it slowed. Grace waited for a few more minutes, hoping that she was done. Her throat was wrecked, her stomach had been emptied completely, and her liver was probably shriveling up and killing her. "Just promise if I get alcohol poisoning, you'll take me to a hospital," she groaned._

"_I'll think about it."_

_Closing the trash bin, Grace slowly crawled to the bathroom and rested her head on the dirty toilet seat, closing her eyes and breathing heavily. "Just get me water, you ass," she told Crowley and he smirked, pouring another glass full of Craig. He walked into the bathroom and handed her the glass. With her eyes still shut tight, she took a huge sip of scotch and threw up again, dropping the glass on the ground. "I hate you!"_

"_Whoops, wrong glass," replied Crowley innocently. _

"_As delicious as it is," she heaved. "Please, just get me water now before I start throwing up chunks of my stomach."_

_Crowley peered into the toilet and cringed. "You sure you haven't started already?" he asked, seeing floating chunks in the midst of her vomit. "Wow, that's disgusting."_

_Grace held up her middle finger to him and he left the room, cackling to himself. He returned with a glass of water and she smelled it and observed it before chugging it all. She immediately felt slightly better and gagged, but didn't throw up. "I never ever imagined my birthday going like this."_

"_Drunker than you thought you'd be?"_

"_I'm celebrating my 21st with a demon," she spat angrily and then she started to laugh. He had never heard her laugh so hard. Believing she was going to choke and throw up again after laughing so hard, he took a step back. Crowley cocked an eyebrow. "How many people can say that?"_

* * *

"_I've done a lot of things for you, Grace, but this is crossing the line. This is where I jump ship."_

"_Please! You have no idea what this means to me! If they all see me alone with no actual career, I'll be the laughing stock of the whole class for the rest of my life!"_

"_Maybe you can drop in during the ten year -"_

_Grace grabbed Crowley's shoulders and shook his. "_Please_, I'm begging you. Just this one thing and I'll never ask for anything ever again, I swear."_

"_I'm sure you'll ask for something."_

"_Crowley!"_

"_Twenty minutes, okay? Then we're out of there."_

_After handing over two hunters in one day to Crowley, he had let her go back home for a few days and relax. When she checked her mail, she realized that her five year high school reunion was coming up and since she hadn't actually graduated (she had made the deal with Crowley a few months before her graduation), she was set on returning and showing everyone that she was a somebody. And she was willing to do anything to make that happen - like pretend she was with Crowley to impress everyone. _

_Crowley was extremely frustrated with the amount of time Grace took with her hair and getting dressed and she even put makeup on. Since she was always hunting and on the move, he had never seen her pampered or dressed up, but as she walked down the staircase to fetch him, he noticed how lovely she could actually be when she wasn't banged and bruised up. _

_When they arrived at Grace's old high school, Crowley put on his disgusted face and Grace hit his arm hard. "Please," she begged quietly again. "Just twenty minutes and then we'll means the world to me."_

"_I'm a demon, Grace," Crowley tried to explain. "I can't just walk in there. What if there's a hunter in there? Or another demon? Or an angel?"_

"_It's a high school reunion, Crowley," Grace told him, giving him a blank stare. "It's a bunch of twenty-something college students and fast food workers. I don't know what you expected, but..."_

_Crowley sighed, defeated. He followed Grace into the building and immediately wanted to burn the place to the ground. So many children in one place - he couldn't handle it. However, he was very proud to be at Grace's side. While other former students talked and laughed like high schoolers again, Grace walked with a steady and confident stride, her shoulders back and her spine straight. There was a way she carried herself that proved she meant business and wasn't there to mess around. People stared at her scribbled name on her nametag and several people came up to her - some people she didn't recognize. _

"_Grace Parks," said one boy. "Remember me?" He pointed to a nametag with the name 'Sean Mallets.' _

_Grace raised her eyebrows in surprise and turned to Crowley. He shook his head, his body tense. He had never felt so awkward in his entire life. "Yeah," Grace told Sean. "I sure remember you. You used to trip me everyday in the cafeteria. You used to tell me I was ugly everyday while I was trying to eat my food at lunch."_

_Sean's face turned bright red. "I'm sorry, Grace," he answered, but it was obviously not sincere. "I mean - you look great - you really look amazing."_

_Crowley cleared his throat and stepped forward, sticking out his hand. "Oh, Sean, this is um - oh, er - Anthony. Anthony Crowley. He's my - uh - boyfriend."_

"_Anthony Crowley," repeated Sean, gripping Crowley's hand and shaking it tightly. Crowley eyed him down and thought of him tripping Grace at lunch or putting her down. "Like in _Good Omens_? You know, the book? Great to meet you."_

"_Pleasure," replied Crowley through gritted teeth. "My parents were avid readers."_

"_Well, you've got a great girl, Ant -" Sean began to cough and Grace tilted her head, watching him as he knelt on the ground and began to cough up blood. Her heart was racing and she looked at Crowley, who was smirking down at Sean. _

_As people rushed over to help Sean and the police were called, Grace grabbed Crowley's arm and maneuvered her way through the gym of her old high school, reaching the outside and hiding in the back so the police wouldn't see them. "You did that!" hissed Grace. "Why'd you do that?"_

"_Why not?" Crowley shrugged. "I heard what you said. He was horrid to you."_

"_So that doesn't mean you had to kill him!"_

"_So you can lure hunters - who were part of your _father's_ death - to me to be killed, but you aren't okay with someone being killed who hurt _you_? Please, explain your logic."_

_Grace was silent. Crowley had made a point. "That wasn't how I thought the night was going to end," she whimpered, glancing over her shoulder as police and ambulances pulled into the gravelly parking lot. "Now everyone in there thinks I'm some kind of revenge killer."_

"_Well, they wouldn't be completely wrong," Crowley said quietly, elbowing her and grinning. _

"_No more public events."_

"_Well, thank _God_ for that."_


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5:**

"It's not angels," said Sam the next morning as Grace walked into their motel room. She set her bag down on one of the beds and looked at him with a cocked eyebrow. She crossed her arms and waited for his guess. "Demons."

"Demons?" Grace scoffed, waving an impatient hand at him. "There's no way. I mean, there were no traces of sulfur anywhere."

"That's where you're wrong," Sam continued. Grace looked to Dean, who was seated before the computer, furiously typing away and paying the other two no attention whatsoever. "Dean and I went to a diner last night and guess what was on one of the booths? Sulfur."

"What - uh, diner?" inquired Grace, hoping that it was another demon that had just popped up into town and not Crowley.

"The one down by the post office," Sam replied, fetching three beers from the mini fridge and passing them around. Grace took it gratefully and opened it, taking a long chug and silently cursing at Crowley. "The waitress said nothing weird was going on, but it doesn't make sense. Why would a demon just randomly decide to have breakfast by himself?"

"Maybe they were hungry," lied Grace, shrugging her shoulders and sitting down at the edge of a bed.

"Maybe they weren't alone," Sam sighed. He glanced at Dean over his shoulder and then looked back at Grace. "There's someone we can call to help us - Dean can do it, if that's okay with you."

Dean finally made eye contact with Grace and she stammered. "Oh - I - who?"

"You wouldn't know him," Dean told her arrogantly, standing up and shoving his hands in his pockets. Grace smirked and raised her eyebrows. Dean smiled innocently at her and joined the conversation. "But this demon is tricky, if you ask me. Three murders and no sign of his presence? And then he gets lazy while out for a date? It doesn't add up."

"Maybe it's not a demon," Grace tried to explain and change the subject quickly off demons. "It could be something we never heard of. It could be one creature doing the murdering and just - you know, a random demon."

Sam and Dean looked at each other. "I think it's best if we call him," Sam muttered to Dean.

Dean cleared his throat and closed his eyes. Shoving his hands deep in his pockets, he began to speak, tilting his head towards the ceiling. Grace looked up, wondering what was going on. Sam half smiled at her and watched his brother. "Cas," Dean began and Grace stood up. "We need your guidance, oh wise one."

"I'm here."

Grace whipped around to see the angel standing behind her. The two of them stared at each other for a moment and Dean clapped his hands together. "Glad you could make it," Dean threw an arm around Grace's shoulders and she could feel her heart pounding loudly. Hoping to God that Castiel wouldn't reveal her intentions, she remained silent, keeping eye contact with him the entire time. "This is Cas. Cas, this is Grace. She's a hunter working on the case, too."

Neither Castiel nor Grace spoke to each other. They didn't exchange pleasantries or shake hands, which the siblings found to be slightly awkward. Dean retracted his arm from Grace and Sam scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably, coughing. "You, uh -" Sam finally spat out. "You guys know each other?"

"No," Grace answered immediately. Castiel's lips were very tight. "This is the first time we've met." She stepped forward and held her hand out. Castiel slowly reached for her's and the handshake was tense and odd. Dean watched as they stared each other down, not cracking a smile whatsoever. While it was normal for Castiel not to smile much, Sam and Dean were confused about Grace's aura. She seemed angry or conflicted or frustrated. They couldn't figure out what was wrong with her, but it was something about Castiel causing her to be so negative all of a sudden. "Pleasure."

Grace's brain was whirring. She had no idea that Dean and Sam actually worked with Castiel and could call him anytime they wanted. This definitely was going to make it harder. Since Castiel knew of her plan and what she did, how was she going to lead the Winchesters to Crowley without Castiel ruining it all? But the bigger and most important question on her mind was: why hadn't Castiel said anything about her?

"So..." Dean interrupted the handshake and Grace pulled her hand away, looking at Dean and losing her train of thought. "Cas, we really need your -"

"I'd like to speak with Grace alone for a moment." Dean's eyes widened as Castiel spoke harshly to him. Looking to his younger brother for something to say, Sam simply shrugged and the two inched their way to the motel door, walking out and giving Grace confused looks. She ignored them both, looking back to Castiel.

Neither of them wanted to speak first, so while they wallowed in the silence, Grace went to the fridge again and opened it, grabbing another beer for herself. She knew the conversation would be much easier for her with alcohol in her system. It worked when she was with Crowley and she hoped that Castiel wasn't as annoying. "Care for a cold one?" she asked Castiel with a grin plastered on her face. He didn't respond, but clenched his fists. "I'll take that as a 'no.' You don't look like the drinking type, anyway."

"I thought I told you not to hunt the Winchesters," Castiel grimaced, stepping towards Grace. She looked him dead in the eye, opening up her second beer and taking a sip. "I thought I told you that I'd kill you. I thought we had made a deal."

Grace frowned, getting extremely tired of his threats. If he truly wanted to kill her, wouldn't he have done it already? "I already made a deal. Six years ago. And in case you haven't noticed, it's going quite swimmingly. I've got enough on my plate already," she hissed. "I'm not bargaining with an angel, too. And I couldn't help but notice that you haven't tried to help me at all - this deal is a two way street, you know. I haven't seen you since you decided to invade my dream."

She turned her back to Castiel and took a large swig of her drink. "I don't need your soul to make a deal. I'm quite aware you've already given it away," Castiel protested. Grace looked at him over her shoulder. "All I need is your word."

"And I'm supposed to trust you?" she scoffed, turning on her heels to face the angel. "After you left me to die? Look, I'm already stuck. I won't get anything out of your deal. Crowley can help me find the angels that killed my father. He can do that, too, believe it or not and just as well. And as for your precious little boys out there -" She nodded towards the door and set her drink down, putting her hands on her hips. "It doesn't matter to me if I kill them or not. Either way, I'll still end up in the same place, whether it be in a few months or many years. I've already secured my place in Hell and nothing I do can change that. I'd rather live my entire life before going down under than strike a deal with you, betray Crowley, and die tomorrow."

"I understand that you're conflicted -"

"I'm _not_ conflicted," spat Grace, rolling her eyes. "Don't pretend like you understand. Don't pretend you have compassion for me because I know that you don't give a shit about what happens to me. I know exactly what I want and you can't stop me from doing my job."

"Do you do your job out of fear?" inquired Castiel. It bothered her the way he said it - almost like he could read her mind. He was so sure of himself that it frightened her. She knew very well she didn't do her job just out of fear, but the way Castiel spoke almost caused her to believe differently. "Do you kill because you want to or because you have to?"

"I'm not scared of Crowley," Grace said flatly, avoiding his question. "If that's what you think. I do what he asks because we made a deal. He's held up his end of the bargain, so I hold up mine. It's the least I can do for what he's given me."

Castiel thought for a moment and Grace shook her head, picking her beer back up and drinking the rest of it. She wished she had been drunk. Grace was getting extremely tired of being questioned and followed by demons and angels. "Why do you do it?" he asked and she was getting real tired of that, too. Did Castiel really believe she was going to spill her feelings and guts to him?

"That's none of your business," she growled. "That's between me, myself, and I."

The angel looked beyond angry, but Grace wasn't really good at reading people. After all, she knew that someone could put on a fake smile or a fake expression, but be feeling something completely different on the inside. She knew that very well. It was her job to lie.

"Look. I know you won't kill me because if you wanted to, you would have in that alley." She paused and waited for Castiel to answer, but he didn't. Grinning, Grace knew that she had caught him. "You have your reasons and I have mine."

"I just have a strong feeling that you're doing this for all the wrong reasons."

"What you justify as 'wrong,'" Grace said boldly. "May not be what I justify as 'wrong.' I'm human. You're an angel. We're two completely different people - _things_ - so don't bullshit me."

"What you justify as 'wrong' is also what Crowley justifies as 'wrong,' am I right?"

"I can think for myself, thank you very much. I don't need a demon telling me what's right and what's wrong. And I certainly don't need you to."

Castiel's voice was strained and frustrated. "I'm trying to help you."

"Help me?" Grace laughed in his face. "I don't need your help. I never asked for your help. I don't want your help. So why don't we go back to doing what we both do best? I can hunt and you can go serve your daddy up in Heaven."

Before Castiel could respond, there was a pounding at the motel door. Grace jumped and Castiel turned around. "You guys done in there?" Dean shouted, pounding more at the door. "I swear to God, if I open this door and both you guys are naked -"

Castiel opened the door and Dean shielded his eyes, looking through the cracks of his fingers to see them both fully clothed and standing a good distance apart from each other. Both of the boys waltzed in as if nothing had happened and Sam patted Grace's shoulder as he passed her. Fetching another beer for herself, she sat down at the table, searching the computer and reading about the creatures Sam and Dean had recently researched.

Sam was rather suspicious. He wanted to know so badly what had gone down after they had been kicked out, but he was too afraid to ask outright. Sam knew that he probably wouldn't get the truth from either of them, anyway. There was nothing out of place in the motel room and no one was hurt or bleeding, so he assumed that there had been no physical contact or fighting. But something about Grace's demeanor made him think something had happened between the two that Grace didn't want to happen in the first place. It was hard to tell what Castiel was thinking, for his face was blank and he was still casually glancing at Grace every few seconds.

Dean, however, noticed nothing unusual at all. He knew that life as a hunter was stressful, so the look on Grace's face didn't trigger any suspicion. He had seen the look plenty of times on Sam's face, as well as his own when he would look in the mirror. Dean laid back on his bed and sighed loudly, breaking the awkward silence and drawing attention to himself.

Grace was slowly drinking her third beer, avoiding Castiel's glare. Her heart was racing with anticipation. She wasn't exactly sure if Castiel was going to blurt out what they had just talked about, or if he was just going to disappear and leave it up to Dean and Sam to figure it out. She attempted to play it cool by seeming interested in her shoes, which were scuffed up and breaking at the toe. Hoping that she wasn't sending any negative vibes out, she waited for someone to speak, to ask what to do next, or even better - she waited for someone to suggest going out to the bar to relieve the tension. Grace made eye contact with Dean, trying and failing to send him a telepathic message to bring up a bar.

Castiel observed everyone in the room, his eyes always going back to Grace. He knew she was avoiding looking at him for a reason. He knew that she felt guilty. He had pushed her buttons and questioned her enough that Castiel believed her to be actually thinking over her deal. Although he wasn't entirely sure, Castiel wished to wait a little longer to see what she would do. His thoughts were interrupted by Sam, who brought up the sulfur he and Dean found at the diner.

Grace knew that Castiel was obviously aware the sulfur was from Crowley. He was obviously aware that no monsters were hunting the hunters - unless he classified Grace as one. The things she had done were sick and twisted, but after what they did to her parents, she felt no remorse or guilt. Castiel was simply twisting her thoughts to make her believe differently and she had to admit, it was working.

Shaking her head and bringing herself back to reality, she realized that Sam and Castiel were having a conversation. She missed the first part, but heard Castiel finish his sentence - "Get out of here and leave while you still can." Before any further explanation, he disappeared, the sound of his wings ringing in Grace's ears.

"What the hell?" Dean groaned, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "All he does is talk in riddles."

"What do you think he meant?" said Sam quietly, stroking his chin as if he had a beard. He was looking out the window as if the answer would appear right before him. "We've taken care of demons before. Why would we have to leave?"

"Maybe the demon left," Dean suggested, but it was hardly a rational one.

"Then why would he tell us to leave?" Sam countered.

"Beats me," the eldest sibling shot back, giving his brother a nasty look. "I'm trying, okay? Maybe - maybe the demon is raising a demon army and they're coming after us. Wouldn't be the first time, yeah?"

Grace was deep in thought again. There was no possible way she could bring the Winchesters to Crowley. The only way she'd be able to would be either to kill Castiel or detain him until Crowley had killed them both already. She glanced sideways at Dean. They looked like such nice boys, too. Much different from other hunters. Maybe it was because they worked together or maybe it was because they were so used to the lifestyle, but most hunters Grace encountered were cold and harsh and unfriendly. It usually took her awhile to gain their trust, but with the Winchesters, it was instant.

"Grace, you have anything?" Sam asked desperately.

She shook her head very slowly, her eyes unfocused and glazed over. "No," she sighed, chuckling quietly to herself. "Nothing at all."

* * *

Grace had agreed to spend part of the night with Sam and Dean after visiting the bar and grabbing more drinks. Afraid that she was too intoxicated to drive back to her motel, Dean insisted she stay for a little while longer to sober up. She actually wasn't that drunk - she had paced herself at the bar, only drinking beer, and she ate lots of french fries. When the three returned to the small motel room, they continued to drink the remaining beers in the fridge, which caused Grace to stay even longer than she planned.

At around one o'clock in the morning, Grace decided she needed some fresh air. The room was stuffy and humid and she had shed her coat and shoes, wishing the room was made of fans. She was drinking the last beer and was halfway done. Partially glad it was the last, she tried to drink it slowly, getting more than a bit buzzed. However, she could still control herself and she excused herself, slipping out of the motel room and sitting down on a curb outside.

The cold air helped to sober her up. Her head was pounding - she hated being buzzed. Grace could handle being drunk, but it was getting there that killed her. The trees and bushes and roads were beginning to sway and spin, but she closed her eyes, hearing the door open behind her. Dean's heavy footsteps walked up to her and he took a seat on the curb, as well, drinking his last beer, too.

They sat in silence for a few moments, enjoying the outside and their drinks. When Grace set her's down beside her, Dean followed suit. "You okay?"

"Yeah." She rubbed her temples. "Peachy."

Dean cleared his throat and sat up, stretching his bow legged legs out in front of him. "If you don't mind me asking," he began. "What happened earlier? You know, with Cas."

"We were just talking," replied Grace. That was all she had to say about the matter. Dean waited for her to elaborate, but after realizing she wasn't going to say anything further, he decided to change the topic. He didn't get the chance, however, for Grace was already asking him a question. With her mind and thoughts blurry from the buzz, she began to lose her secretive side. "Do you ever wish that you weren't a hunter?"

Dean stammered and pursed his lips, thinking real hard about his answer. He, too, was slightly drunk, so it was hard to come up with something to say to her. "I don't know," he told her honestly. "Hunting is - it's kinda all I know. I can't imagine living another life. Why?"

"Sometimes I just wish I was normal," Grace sighed. "I wish I didn't know about demons or angels or anything. I could have a family and a normal job and a - a home. A real home. My parents might still be alive. I wouldn't be living in motel rooms all my life, stealing people's identities."

Looking at Grace, Dean saw the sadness etched all over her face. The loneliness he saw was familiar to him. He thought about Sam - what would he do without Sam with him all the time? Grace had no one. She was by herself, just as many other hunters were. Now that he thought about it, he couldn't imagine hunting without Sam by his side. Sam was his support system. Sam believed in him. Who believed in Grace? "Honestly," Dean said. "Sometimes I wish I never dragged Sammy into this lifestyle. He had something going for him. I just didn't want to be alone anymore."

"I'll drink to that." Grace picked up her beer and Dean did the same. They cheered, touching their bottles and chugged whatever was still inside them. Dean licked his lips and laid down on the sidewalk, staring up at the stars. "You ever doubt yourself? You think you're doing the right thing - you're _sure_ you're doing the right thing, but maybe you aren't?"

Dean didn't reply, but looked at her. She was holding her knees to her chest, staring straight forward.

"Like, you did something bad that just continued to get worse? And you can't stop because you've dug yourself into this deep hole that you just can't get out of. You try and try and try, but finally, you've got to just give up because no one will come a help you out." Grace breathed in deeply. "And you get berated and reprimanded constantly, but they don't understand that you're stuck and nothing you do will change that."

Dean believed her to be talking about hunting. Not hunting people, but creatures, like he and Sam did. He nodded his head, understanding every single word she was saying, but at the same time, misunderstanding, as well. "You just said everything I've ever wanted to say," chuckled Dean. "You're a really, uh - philosophical drunk, aren't you?"

"No," answered Grace. "I'm an honest drunk."

"If that was true, you would tell me what you and Cas talked about today."

Grace looked at him and smiled. Dean smiled weakly back, knowing that she had no intention of telling him.

"Come on, Grace, we're friends."

She looked at Dean again, cocking an eyebrow. "Friends?" she scoffed. "No, I thought we were partners. Hunters like me don't have friends. They're weaknesses."

Dean sat up and smirked. "Too good for us?" he teased. "Yeah, we're friends. We go out to drink, we go out to eat, we're working a case together. Doesn't that constitute as friends? I mean, you seem like a good person to me."

Grace stood up and brushed herself off, grabbing her empty beer bottle. "People aren't always what they seem, Dean." She reached for the doorknob, but waited, turning back to him. "I know that you aren't really the arrogant son of a bitch you make yourself out to be. I know you're lonely and sad. It doesn't take a mind reader to see that. It's written all over your face."


	6. Chapter 6

this story is pretty much planned out. i've got a lot of the big moments already written, but since we're not there yet, here's a nice chapter with some cas in it. enjoy it! please let me know how you think this story is going - whether you love it or hate it, i'd appreciate your comments, criticisms, and flames. xx

* * *

**Chapter 6:**

'Friend' was such a foreign word to Grace. She hardly used it. The only person she ever even considered a 'friend' was Crowley and they were more business partners than anything. A master and a slave. But she knew she could not confide in Crowley if she were in distress or had a boy problem (not that she met many boys that she was interested in). Grace did as Crowley said and that was what kept their relationship and bond stronger than what was normal. If anything, and she knew it was strange, but Crowley was like a father figure to her. He had looked after her for six whole years and had provided for her when she needed something. Grace trusted Crowley to protect her and he did constantly.

This was what was going through her mind when she woke up the next morning, her head pounding and her insides screaming. She had forgotten where she was, but soon remembered as she felt hot breathing on the back of her neck, causing her hair to stand up. Grace had spent the night with the Winchester duo, passing out as soon as she stepped inside of the motel room after speaking to Dean.

She calmed down slightly when she realized that all her clothes were still on, except her shoes. Grace was lying straight as an arrow, with Dean's arm draped around her waist and she lifted his heavy arm. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, quietly acknowledging Sam, who was brushing his teeth in the bathroom, the door wide open. Sam nodded to her and spit in the sink.

Looking at Dean, she blushed furiously when she noticed his shirt was off and thrown on the floor. Tossing the blankets off, she walked into the bathroom with Sam, checking herself out in the mirror. There were bags under her eyes, her hair was a knotty mess, and somehow, she had gotten a bruise on her jawbone. Grace rubbed it and Sam chuckled as she grabbed a washcloth and began to rinse her face with cold water.

"Don't laugh," grumbled Grace.

"Yes, ma'am," replied Sam with a grin.

"Does your head hurt as much as mine?"

"Depends," Sam shrugged. "Is your brain knocking against your head every time you move?"

Grace nodded and laughed to herself. "Yeah. I think I killed my liver last night. Drank a little more than I thought I did."

"I know," said Sam. "I had to take your shoes off once you fell asleep or else Dean would have drawn on your face."

"Thanks for that."

Sam hummed a response and Grace dried her face, leaving the bathroom and gathering her stuff together. She sat down at the one table in the room and began to lace up her boots silently. Dean was just beginning to wake up and after yawning obnoxiously and stretching, he spotted Grace. "Mornin'," Dean sighed, closing his eyes again. "Leaving so soon?"

"You can't keep me here forever," Grace shot back, smiling innocently at him. "No matter how much alcohol you give me."

Dean sat up and ran a hand through his hair, winking at her. "You'll change your mind eventually."

"I'll tell you one thing," Grace told Dean, standing up and raising her eyebrows. "I'm not sleeping with you next to me ever again."

"You'll change your mind about that, too!"

* * *

When Grace arrived at her own motel room, she dropped everything immediately and ran to the shower, stripping and turning it on the hottest temperature, which wasn't very hot in the first place. She stood there for a long time, completely zoning out and enjoying the water falling on her back. The shower head wasn't too good, either - there was one stream of water coming out of it, but she appreciated it nonetheless.

She thought hard about everything. About Dean and about Sam and about Castiel. She thought about how kind the boys were to her. She thought about how much Castiel didn't want Grace to lead them to their doom. She wondered if Crowley knew anything about Castiel; did Crowley know he had been threatening her? Grace didn't remember much from the previous night, but she remembered talking to Dean and she remembered how he had called her his friend.

Normally, during other hunts, she never spent so much time with the victims. She had befriended them, but it wasn't at the point where she was drinking with them, sleeping in the same bed as them, and sharing secrets with them. Grace knew she had to back off a little if she was going to be able to complete the assignment Crowley had given her. If she continued to get closer to them, it would be hard. But they were so nice to her, so good to her, and seemed like they didn't deserve anything. They loved her father - why would they have any part in killing him?

Someone knocked on her bathroom door and Grace jumped. "Who is it?" she growled, hoping it wasn't Dean or Sam.

"Who do you think, sweetheart?"

"Crowley?"

"Expecting someone else?"

"I'm in the shower," she hissed. "Get out! Come back later!"

"Please," Crowley cackled. "Nothing to see, anyway."

"Shut up!"

"Look, I haven't got much time today," Crowley continued and Grace massaged her head full of shampoo, having a hard time rinsing it out with the steady stream of water. "So we'll just talk right now. How's the hunt going?"

"Wonderfully," Grace retorted, rolling her eyes, even though Crowley couldn't see her. "I've got an angel up my ass."

"Castiel popping in for random visits, hm?" Crowley sighed and cleared his throat. "Yes, I'll have to have a little talk with him."

"And could you clean up after yourself?" Grace barked at him. "You keep leaving sulfur everywhere and they're starting to get suspicious!"

Outside the bathroom door, Crowley crossed his arms and scoffed. "I always clean up after myself -"

The door had burst open and Grace was standing in the doorway, clad in just a green, moldy looking towel, her eyes wide. She was grinning, breathing heavily and dripping wet. The shower still sprayed in the background and Crowley took a step back, shielding his eyes as she whacked him playfully. "That's it," she gasped. "That's how I'm gonna do it. Why didn't I think of it? Of course they weren't going to buy angels!"

"What are you saying?" Crowley shook his head and pushed her back into the bathroom, but she simply shut the water off and ran out into the bigger room, gathering new clothes. Slipping underwear on underneath the towel, she instructed Crowley to turn around as she put a bra on. He did as she requested and waited until she was fully clothed, rubbing her hair furiously with a towel. "What's going on, Grace?"

"I know how I'm gonna lead the Winchesters to you," she said breathlessly. "They've been finding sulfur everywhere because of you - so they know a demon is close. So instead of just making something up - we're going to be hunting _you_!"

"Excuse me?"

"I mean, I would just be leading them there, but they wouldn't know that and they'd really believe me - oh, Crowley, this is perfect! You're perfect!"

"Hm," Crowley smiled at her and she beamed at him, oddly proud of herself. Why hadn't she thought of it before? It was so simple. Dean and Sam were smarter than most hunters. Most hunters she encountered just killed aimlessly with no strategy, but Dean and Sam thought about their cases - actually did research and thought about them. Using Crowley was the perfect way to manipulate the boys. And if Castiel ever stopped by in one of her dreams or decided to pay the Winchesters a visit, she could explain that she was hunting Crowley after turning on him. "I like this idea."

"It'll be quick," she continued, hardly listening to Crowley or paying him any attention. "And easy. They'll have absolutely no clue -"

"When was the last time you hunted a demon?" interrupted Crowley and Grace looked to him, tilting her head slightly like a lost puppy.

"I - I don't recall ever hunting a demon," she replied, thinking hard about it. Crowley never told her to find any demons. She got along with the demons. They respected her for what she was doing. She had no reason to hunt them. "You've never asked me to."

Crowley smirked. "Let's play a game, then," he suggested, clapping his hands together. Crowley began to pace around the room and she watched him carefully, putting her hands on her hips. "How long do you think it'll take to find me?"

"Find you?" Grace shook her head. "You always come to me."

"It's a game, my lovely!" Crowley seemed overly excited. "A little hide-and-go-see, if you will. You've never hunted a demon, so I want to - test your abilities. See if you're capable of hunting and finding a demon. I know you can - after all, you're the best hunter I've met."

Grace smiled at Crowley and he winked at her. "A game, you say?" she shrugged her shoulders. "Sounds fun. I bet I'll find you in three days."

"Don't be so sure of yourself." Crowley raised his eyebrows. "No one likes an egotistical brat."

"Dick," muttered Grace jokingly.

"What are those?" Crowley asked, lowering his eyes to her chest. Grace went to protest, but Crowley added, "B's now? At least you've upgraded one cup size in six years!"

Grace blushed furiously and crossed her arms over her chest. "You asshole!"

"And on that note -" Crowley chuckled. "Let the games begin!"

After Crowley disappeared, Grace went back into the bathroom to brush her teeth, her face still bright red after his comment. He knew she was self conscious about that! Grabbing her breasts with her hands, Grace grumbled to herself, "They're _C's_, jerk."

* * *

Grace headed out later that afternoon to meet up with Dean and Sam, very excited to play along with Crowley. More than half of her was just eager to hunt a demon - which she hadn't done before - but a little bit of her was eager to get the Winchester mission over with.

She met up with the boys at the bar they first spoke at. Dean had already finished his bacon cheeseburger and Sam was sitting on the computer, tiredly scrolling down the page he was on. Grace walked up to them, removing her coat and sitting up on the high chair. Signaling the waitress over, Dean grunted in acknowledgement, obviously still suffering from a hangover.

"You should take some aspirin for that," said Grace in a low voice to Dean, smirking. He glared at her and scoffed.

"Already took four. How are you still going to drink?"

Grace ordered a beer for herself and sent the woman away, wanting to talk with the two. Sam occasionally glanced up at her and it began to freak Grace out, but she said nothing about it, watching Sam from the corner of her eye. She looked at Dean and grinned. "One of my good friends told me that the best cure for a hangover is to keep drinking. So drink up."

"Might as well." Dean ordered a beer for himself and Sam. "You find anything today?"

"No, I just left my motel room a few minutes ago," answered Grace, sipping her beer, ignoring the annoying pain in her head. The shower didn't do much for Grace, as she wasn't in it for very long and Crowley had interrupted before she could finish. The taste of her toothpaste made her want to vomit, as well. She just couldn't catch a break. Shaking the thoughts away, she breathed in deeply. "But I know for a fact that it's not angels - there's a demon here."

"Just one?" Sam inquired, cocking an eyebrow and finally looking up from his computer screen. "How do you know? What'd you find?"

"Sulfur," lied Grace. Technically she wasn't lying - there was only one demon in town and it was Crowley, but she never found sulfur. That was all Dean and Sam. "Outside my door when I got home this morning."

"Outside your door?" Dean repeated. "Demon was trying to get to you?"

Grace shrugged as if she didn't know. "I don't know, but it didn't come back to check if I was there," she said. "So I guess I'm safe for the time being."

"What does it want with you?" Sam asked.

"No idea," Grace told him. "Maybe it just knows I'm a hunter."

"Well, we gotta find that thing quick before it kills one of us," Dean looked directly at Sam and nodded. "Three hunters died recently - I'm not trying to be the fourth."

"It's just a demon," Sam answered flatly. "We've hunted demons before, Dean, I've told you this. It's three against one."

"Could be a demon army. You never know." Dean didn't seem scared at all, but was attacking the situation from all angles. Grace admired his quick thinking and looked to Sam, hoping for a response.

"Doubtful," sighed Sam. "If it was an army, there'd be more sulfur, don't you think?"

Dean didn't answer, but continued to drink his beer, cringing a bit after taking a huge swig. Grace cleared her throat. "We could set up camp at my room tonight," she offered, glancing at both men. "And see if the demon comes back. The demon may not come back, but it's our only option at the moment."

"She's right," Sam agreed and Grace grinned, taking another sip of beer to congratulate herself on her wonderful suggestion. "Any lead is a good lead."

"Then it's settled," Dean slammed his empty beer bottle down and threw a couple of dollars on the table. "Party at Grace's tonight!"

HERE HERE HERE HERE HERE

Grace got into her small, beat up car, starting the loud engine and looking down to put it in reverse. When she looked back up, she screamed and jumped - Castiel was sitting in the passenger seat, looking thoughtfully out the windshield. "What the hell are you doing in here?!" she cried, throwing the car back into park and letting it run. She stared the angel down, but he did not look at her. Grace didn't want to admit it to herself, but he was extremely handsome, and it was very distracting while she was trying to lie and deceive him.

Castiel didn't answer. He looked so peaceful, but he looked so stern at the same time.

"Listen, buddy," she growled at him, turning in her seat completely to face him. "I'll tell you this one more time - either kill me or don't."

He didn't move.

"Exactly," she breathed. "I didn't think you would."

"I know what you said last night to Dean," Castiel finally uttered, making Grace's eyebrows knit together. She licked her lips and shook her head.

"You weren't there."

"Of course I was," Castiel retorted, looking at her. He was quite intimidating, but she assumed if he lightened up a little, he'd be much more easy to talk to. "You think I'd let you be with the Winchesters unattended? You mistake me for a fool, Grace."

"I was drunk," Grace tried to explain, but there was no getting around this. Castiel had caught her. Whether she meant what she said or not, she couldn't say, but she wasn't about to let Castiel believe she had her doubts. "I was drunk and I sure as hell didn't mean any of it. It slipped out. I just - I wasn't thinking."

"I won't kill you," Castiel said simply and Grace rolled her eyes. Obviously he wasn't going to, or she'd have been dead by then. He could kill her with the tip of his finger, but he hadn't. "Because I believe there's still hope for you."

"There's no hope for me," Grace snorted, sitting back in her seat and looking at the bar through the windshield. "My fate has already been decided. No matter what I do, I'm ending up in Hell, so might as well live it up, right? My hope disappeared six years ago along with my soul. Don't pretend that you can help me."

"It's not what I can do for you," answered Castiel quietly. "But what you can do for yourself."

"What does that even mean?" Grace groaned, hitting her head against the headrest of her chair. "Can't you just speak plain English? There's nothing I can do for myself that'll get me out of this. This is my life now and it's not going to change."

"But would you?" Castiel paused. "If you could change what you've done, would you?"

Grace hesitated, not knowing how to respond to that question. No one had ever asked her that before. No one ever asked if she regretted becoming a hunter or if she would change her past. Then again, everyone she knew pretty much died. She was the one killing them - indirectly, of course. It was Crowley who was technically killing the hunters, but she was leading them there. She had murdered tons of people. She had lost count of how many men she lured to her partner. Grace looked sideways at Castiel. "It doesn't matter. The past is the past and it can't change."

"I know that," he continued, a bit harshly. "But you shouldn't have to live this way forever."

"So you want me to just go give up and tell Crowley I quit?" she scoffed. "I think I'm a bit young for Hell."

"What difference would it make? It's still an eternity in Hell, no matter what age you are when you die."

Grace was silent. She gripped the steering wheel so hard, her knuckles turned white.

"Have you ever been to Hell, Grace?"

She shook her head slowly.

"Why would you sell your soul for a life like this? A life that will, eventually, come to an end?" Castiel waited for her to think about what he was saying. He seemed like he was convincing her, but she was hard to read. Her face was set and her eyes lifeless, almost like she was in a trance. "Is it really worth it? Your life on this planet is nothing compared to what lies below. They're all waiting for you, Grace. Demons are demons, no matter what they promise. When you go down there, they're going to treat you the same way they'd treat anyone else. So tell me - was making that deal... hunting the Winchesters... hunting everybody... was it worth all the pain and suffering to come?"

"You know nothing." Her voice cracked.

"I know enough."

Grace closed her eyes and heard Castiel's wings make a rushing noise. She opened her eyes again quickly, looking to her right. Castiel had disappeared. Grace breathed in deeply, gasping for air, her eyes beginning to water. How had Castiel instilled so much fear into her? He wasn't that scary, but what he was saying was unlike anything she had ever heard. Castiel made her believe that she would be tortured forever by the demons she believed respected her - at least, that's what Crowley had said. But then again, if demons were demons no matter what... was Crowley lying to her? Trying to get her into Hell willingly?

Her doubts were stronger than ever about everything, but she knew there was no getting out of it. If she wanted to evade Hell for a little while longer, she'd have to find Crowley and give him the Winchesters fast.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7:**

Grace showed up at her motel room after Castiel left. Dean and Sam were waiting outside of her door and she parked next to their Impala. She looked in the rear view mirror and wiped her eyes before stepping out and pulling the key from her pocket. Without glancing at either of them, she bolted for the door, fumbling with the key, but finally opening the door.

"What took you so long?" Sam asked, letting himself in after Grace. She didn't answer, but went straight to the bathroom, slamming the door shut.

Locking the bathroom door, she leaned up against it, running a hand through her hair and sitting down. Grace couldn't think straight or rationally. Castiel had gotten to her somehow and without Crowley around now, she was confused. There was absolutely no one to speak with. Playing the stupid game with Crowley was the worst idea she ever agreed to because without him, Grace lost her sense of direction. He had always told her what to do next; he calmed her down when she was over thinking things; but most importantly, he convinced her that what she was doing was right.

There was gentle knocking at the door and Grace shook her head. The very last thing she was about to do was expose her vulnerable side to Dean and Sam. It's not like she could tell them what was going on, anyway. As far as she was concerned, what she and Castiel talked about was strictly between them. In fact, she didn't know if Castiel had any intention of telling Dean and Sam. She didn't understand why. Grace was hunting them both - didn't Castiel have some kind of obligation to try and steer them away from danger? Or was Castiel attempting to wiggle his way into her brain, control her thoughts and force her to doubt herself? If that was, indeed, his plan, he had succeeded. Not completely succeeded, but he was twisting Grace's arm behind her back and since Crowley couldn't beat the sense into her, she was stuck, confused and angsty as ever.

"Grace?" came Dean's voice as he knocked again. She didn't answer, not wanting to speak with him anymore. Castiel was probably watching and spying on her that very moment. Grace knew she couldn't be telling Dean anything else personal, in fear of it becoming public. She scolded herself, knowing that she should have listened to Crowley's advice and drawn sigils around the room to keep out angels. "You all right in there?"

She wiped her eyes and laughed to herself, knowing that there was no one else to honestly talk to, in the first place. "I'm fine," she sniffled, standing up and looking in the mirror. Grace scrunched her nose, dissatisfied with her appearance. Part of her damaged self-esteem came from Crowley's wisecracks at her body, but she didn't care much for his opinion, however. But looking in the mirror, she saw that crying had made her eyes swollen, red, and puffy, and her cheeks were stained wet from the tears. "Just needed to think."

"Come think out here with us," replied Dean. "We all gotta put our heads together for this case."

Grace opened the door and walked out, avoiding eye contact with either of them so they didn't see her bloodshot eyes. She busied herself by flipping through a book on myths, legends, and folklore, skimming over all the interesting stories she had read several times before. "I doubt the demon will come tonight," Grace muttered.

"Why's that?" Sam asked.

"They aren't idiots," she explained, glancing at him quickly. Sam wasn't paying attention, so it didn't matter; his eyes were fixated on the only light in the room, which was flickering annoyingly. "They won't come back to a motel room with three hunters in it."

"Killed three hunters before," Sam shrugged, raising his eyebrows. "It may not think of us as threats."

"I'm just saying - I don't think they'll come. Drink?" Grace stood up and walked over to the mini-fridge. Resting on top was some scotch that Crowley had given to her a few days previously. It was Craig, aged 30 years, just as he preferred it. Dean nodded and she poured a glass for him, Sam, and herself.

"Didn't know you for a big scotch drinker," Dean said, gratefully taking the glass from her and smelling it. He exhaled happily and drank.

"There's a lot of things you don't know about me," Grace shot back, holding up her glass and cheering with Dean.

"I love it when a girl plays hard to get."

"Not playing hard to get, Dean," she chuckled. "There's just some things that I'd like to keep to myself."

* * *

Not allowing herself to drink more than three glasses of scotch that night, she went to bed earlier than usual. Sam and Dean slept on the floor with a makeshift bed Grace had made for them with blankets and towels and one pillow for the two of them. While it wasn't the most comfortable place to sleep, it wasn't much worse than the rock hard mattress Grace had somehow endured for several days so far.

She tossed and turned in her sleep, not able to fall asleep completely. Once she'd begin to dream, she would immediately wake up and have difficulty falling back asleep. When she heard someone's watch beep to mark a new hour, Grace checked the alarm clock on the bedside table and groaned to herself, burying her face in her pillow after reading '4:36.'

Finally, twenty or so minutes later, she finally spread all her limbs out and shut her eyes tight, praying that God would let her sleep. She almost considered praying to the Sandman - if demons and angels were real, Grace was almost positive the Sandman existed.

Her mind was thinking so fast that she couldn't keep up with all her thoughts. Grace just wished that Castiel would leave her alone. She wished that Crowley would forget about the Winchesters and they could all move on - Grace to another hunter and the Winchesters to new monsters. She had spent so much time with the Winchesters that it was becoming extremely detrimental to herself. Getting to know the Winchesters and understanding them and becoming _real_ friends with them - that couldn't happen. Handing friends over to Crowley would be the hardest thing in the world to do.

Was Hell really worth it, though? Crowley had trained her, but there was nothing spectacular about her hunting abilities. Perhaps it was because she didn't exactly hunt creatures, but her own species. And no one had ever figured it out before. People thought Grace to be some extraordinary hunter because of her father, but she felt like she hadn't lived up to his reputation at all. She couldn't argue with that. Maybe she was strong - stronger than most women, maybe even as strong as Sam or Dean - but that was simply because she worked for it. Everything she had, she was trained for. Even though she had told Crowley the first time they met that she wanted to be the best hunter in the world, she had gotten much more out of their bargain. It wasn't as if Crowley tricked her into taking her soul for nothing. Crowley was decent. Crowley wouldn't betray her like that. Crowley loved her as much as he could love anyone.

She considered praying for Castiel to come back and talk to her more. Grace wanted - _needed_ - to know what to do. Was she supposed to believe Crowley? That she was doing the right thing in ganking the bad guys, despite the feeling in her gut that she wasn't? Or was she supposed to believe Castiel? That there was just a glimmer of hope left for her and she could redeem and prove herself to be a good person. Or was it just because Castiel didn't want the Winchesters dead that he was saying this? She had never had problems with angels questioning her before. Six years she went without a problem - why was it that now she was? What was so special about those two boys on her floor that both demons _and _angels wanted them?

Castiel left her to die.

Crowley saved her ass more times than she could count.

Castiel threatened to kill her.

Crowley was her family. As strange and unusual as it was to love a demon, Grace absolutely adored Crowley. He had assumed the role of her guardian after her parents' death and never turned back once. She knew that Crowley would do anything to protect her. He would never lead her astray because he knew there was something about Grace. Why would Crowley lie to her? Just because he was a demon? Not all demons were evil, just as not every angel could be good. But was that really true? Or was she just making up excuses to stick with Crowley?

And she knew for a fact that when she died, she wouldn't be just another soul to torture down in Hell. The demons knew what she did - she never once hunted a demon or killed one. But Castiel's speech made her rethink that. Once she died, would Crowley just abandon her, wanting nothing more to do with her? There was no good she could do in Hell. She couldn't hunt anymore, so her only talent and use would be gone.

Not sure what to think anymore, Grace tried to forget about it. Everything had been going smoothly since she met the Winchesters. They were ruining her life, making it difficult to see what path was the right one. She never expected to meet such wonderful hunters. Wonderful _people_.

Grace always assumed that most hunters were bad people. Hunters killed her father and mother in bed. Hunters worked together to do that. Hunters had left her alone. It was all their fault. And Grace knew that even if she hadn't sold her soul, she would end up in Hell anyway. She was guilty of murder. Not directly, but she knew exactly what she was doing leading them to Crowley. But maybe - just maybe - if not all demons were evil, not all angels were good - maybe not all hunters were bad people.

* * *

"Rise and shine, sweetheart!"

Dean threw a pillow at Grace, causing her to sit up quickly and whip it right back at him. Sam was in the shower and she heard him complain about the one stream of water. Grace was in no mood for laughter and jokes. She had finally fallen asleep only a couple hours earlier and could have slept for three more years. "Dean, get out of my motel room," she groaned, falling back onto her bed and wrapping herself in blankets.

"No can do," sighed Dean, sounding quite content. "Sleep is for the weak, anyway."

"Hm."

"I checked the door already, by the way," he added. Grace looked tiredly at him at he nudged his thumb in the direction of the main door. "No sulfur. Should have known he wasn't going to come back."

Grace stumbled out of bed, yawning loudly and picking clothes up off the ground. She grumbled something under her breath about too many people in her motel room. Sitting back down on the bed, she decided to wait for Sam to be finished in the bathroom, but when five minutes passed and the shower was still running, Grace busted in anyway.

"Hey -!" shouted Sam, sticking his head out from behind the shower curtain. "What are you doing? Little busy!"

"You're taking too long," Grace shot back, holding up her clothes. "My motel room - I can do whatever I want."

Sam shut the shower curtain and Grace started undressing, trying to change quickly before Sam finished rinsing himself. She squeezed into one of her only pairs of jeans, hopping in the air and doing a little jig before buttoning them. Throwing a shirt on over her bra and tank top, she grabbed her toothbrush and began to brush her teeth, walking out of the bathroom and spitting out the window.

Grace grabbed her brown bomber jacket from the end of the bed and put it on, finally hearing Sam step out of the shower. Dean ran a hand through his hair, checking to see if it was greasy or not. He examined his hand and then looked to Grace. "Am I good?" he asked. "I feel dirty, but I don't want to risk you executing me because I decided to take a shower here."

"You're fine," she shrugged, not really caring about Dean's appearance. No demon was going to care about how clean or dirty they were. Their job was all about getting dirty; Grace had stayed in motel rooms for up to three days where there wasn't any running water. _That_ was the worst hunt of her entire life. "Are we getting breakfast?"

Dean's eyes lit up at her suggestion as Sam stepped out of the bathroom, putting his shirt on and combing his hair with his fingers. Grace watched him carefully; he was like a puppy, shaking the water from his head. "I like the way you think," Dean winked at her.

"Then we're calling Cas," Sam interrupted, grabbing his jacket and bag. He threw the blankets he had used for his makeshift bed back onto the bed, not caring enough to fold them. "We can see what he knows about the demon in this town."

"Castiel just comes whenever you call him?" Grace wondered out loud. She followed the boys outside and Sam opened the back door of their Impala. Grace climbed in and relaxed herself. "Like, whenever you need something?"

"Most of the time." Dean slid into the driver's seat and started up the engine. "Usually, he just gives us a riddle to solve and then books it before we can get answers."

"Don't you - _enjoy _- the hunt, though? Isn't that the best part?" Grace continued. "Going on this crazy scavenger hunt for clues and leads? Doesn't it get boring having an angel tell you what to do next every single time you find a case?"

Sam and Dean looked at each other awkwardly, not sure how to answer for them both. Dean urged Sam to speak, but Sam didn't want to do any talking. However, due to Dean's persistence, Sam breathed in and thought for a moment about Grace's question honestly.

"Cas is a good friend of ours," Sam explained and Grace cocked an eyebrow. "And with him around, we can save more people because we aren't wasting any time."

Grace looked out the window, pursing her lips. Castiel wasn't going to lead them to Crowley. She knew that for a fact - he wasn't stupid. Grace couldn't get his last words to her out of her head. Almost afraid to see him again, Grace was worried he'd try to work his magic on her again to cause her to doubt herself and her choices. Without Crowley around, Castiel had no competition.

"Besides, you're wrong," Dean said, looking at Grace through the rear view mirror. She gave him a confused look. "Ganking 'em is the best part." He smiled at her and Grace chuckled, rolling her eyes.

* * *

Sam Winchester was indifferent towards Grace Parks. She and Dean hit it off right away, as they had multiple mutual interests and their attitudes were almost completely similar. However, Sam didn't like the fact that she was so secretive and mysterious. How did she - out of all people - end up in the same town as them? Sam couldn't remember the last time he ever heard her name being mentioned in his house. His father stopped talking about Uncle Dale a long, long time ago.

It was just so coincidental and Sam found it strange. She was hard to get to know and hard to understand. She would say the most random things, come up with the most random explanations, and ask the most random questions. But he noticed whenever she gave an answer, she was extremely confident in it. Being alone for so long, though, could change a person and if Grace didn't have anyone to believe in herself, she would have to be that person. Grace was a very sure and decisive person, which Sam greatly admired, but he still found her odd.

And why was she so willing to team up with them? Most hunters that he and Sam encountered preferred to work alone. Even the Winchesters liked to work by themselves. Perhaps everyone was different. Or perhaps it was just Grace that was different. Sam couldn't quite tell. She was very hard to read.

He would have much rather watched her than interacted with her. It was one thing to try to read someone while you're talking to them and attempting to pay attention to not only their tone and body language, but what they're saying, as well. Watching Grace from a distance would give Sam a better visual into what her motives were.

He'd have to speak to Castiel about her.

* * *

Dean and Sam drove themselves and Grace back to their own motel room, which was bigger and easier for three people to maneuver in. While Sam and Grace waited for Dean to call Castiel, they sat down beside each other, awkwardly close. They hadn't spoken much, but Grace liked him enough and wouldn't mind having a conversation with him. Although, it wouldn't matter much, because in a little bit, they would be dead. Dead by Crowley's hand and Grace would move on with her life. Right onto the next assignment Crowley would have prepared for her. That's how it always was.

Castiel appeared in the corner of the motel room and almost immediately, his eyes fell on Grace, who was staring right back. Both of them looked away - Grace out the window and Castiel at Dean. "How can I help?" asked Castiel, his gravelly voice ringing through Grace's ears. She didn't even want to pay attention, but somehow, his voice entranced her. It was such a relief to be around better looking men. Crowley just wasn't doing it for her.

"Demon," Dean answered right away. "Do you know where they are?"

Castiel exhaled through his nose. "No."

"No?" Dean repeated, raising an eyebrow and stepping forward. He shoved his hands deep in his jeans pockets. "What do you mean 'no'?"

"I mean 'no.' There are more important things to deal with at the current moment," Castiel responded sadly, looking at Grace once more. She was staring at the angel, her mouth open slightly and her eyes blank. "I don't have the time to search for a demon."

Dean scoffed. "Are you serious?"

Castiel locked eyes with Dean again. "I'll see what I can do. If you excuse me, I need to speak with Grace again."

Dean looked at Grace and blinked a few times. "Again?" he asked. "Why?"

"That is none of your concern," Castiel told him. "If Grace wishes you to be informed, then she will let you know."

"That's not fair -" Sam began, but Castiel cut him off.

"Life isn't fair."

Dean walked towards the door, not quite mad, but not exactly happy about the situation. Sam stood and stretched, following his brother out of the motel room. Grace stood, as well, and looked at Castiel. "Why'd you say no?" she questioned him. "You know damn well where Crowley is, don't you?"

"It's not time yet," said Castiel.

"There's a set time that the Winchesters need to be handed over?" laughed Grace, putting her hands on her hips. Castiel looked her over and noted the odd pose she struck whenever she was in disbelief. Grace would pop her hip and put most of her weight on her left leg, her fingers digging into her shirt. Her eyebrows would raise quickly, arching high up on her face. Even her nose would wrinkle slightly. "And _you're_ in charge of what time that is?"

Castiel blinked slowly, stopping himself from examining Grace any further. "You can stop this," Castiel reminded her. The stone cold expression on his face changed to one of empathy. "But only in time."

"What do you think is going to happen?" Grace hesitated and licked her lips. "What if I don't want to stop it? What if I don't plan on it?"

He looked at her for a few seconds, hardly blinking. "I think -" There was a dramatic pause and Grace felt uncomfortable. Her eyes started wandering, trying to observe every feature in his face, body, and even his attitude. "You are having doubts."

"You don't know that."

Castiel was quiet, knowing that he was correct about his assumption.

"Tell me who killed my father."

"I can't."

"Can't or won't?" Grace asked again, raising her voice.

Castiel was fighting for something to say, but it took him awhile to piece an actual word together. "Both."

There wasn't going to be any protesting or arguing, because after answering her question, Castiel decided to disappear. Typical.


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER 8:**

"Let me ask ya something, Sammy." Dean cleared his throat as Sam looked over at his brother from the passenger side of the Impala. Driving down the bumpy road back to their motel, Dean bounced around in his seat, growing irritated after knocking his head against the roof several times. He scowled and as their car reached smoothly paved road, he continued. "What do you think of Grace?"

Sam shrugged and pursed his lips. "I think she's nice," he replied vaguely, looking out the window. "She seems nice."

"Nice? _Nice_?" Dean repeated and rolled his eyes. "You got anything better than that? Anything better than _nice? _You're the one who went to college and that's all you can come up with? Gimme a real word, Sammy."

Sam scoffed. "Fine, you want the truth?" He glanced at Dean, smiling weakly. Dean nodded - that's what he wanted in the first place. Sam hesitated, not sure how to go on without insulting Dean's new friend. "I think she's hiding something."

"Well, who isn't?" Dean shot back. "You can't hold any secrets she has against her. There's plenty of things she doesn't know about you that I'm sure you don't want her to find out."

With a harsh glare at his brother, Sam added, "If I knew what she was talking to Cas about, I'd feel - slightly - better about her."

"Well, if it was important, Cas would tell us, right?"

Sam didn't answer.

"All hunters have secrets. How many hunters have we met that told us everything about their personal lives?" Dean inquired and Sam took it into consideration. Dean was partially right; Sam knew that he had things in the vault that he wouldn't even tell Dean. "She's a good hunter."

"Grace said that she and Cas didn't know each other before." Sam presented a good point, but Dean wasn't ready to hear it. He needed this - a female presence. Grace was a breath of fresh air. He could get away from Sam if he needed to; Sam really made him angry sometimes and being with someone 24/7 was tiring and exhausting. "So what would they have to talk about?"

"Her hunting?" suggested Dean. "You're looking too far into this."

"I'm just curious."

"Curiosity killed the cat."

Sam rolled his eyes.

* * *

A few days after the start of Crowley's hide-and-seek game, there was a murder in the city Grace was staying in. Knowing full well that Crowley was teasing her by killing off random civilians, the three hunters got together and decided to do some research, looking around the city for sulfur or clues to where their demon was hiding. While Dean went to go speak with the victim's family, Sam and Grace were told to go check the body for anything strange.

Sam looked extremely professional in his suit and tie and Grace, had she not known him, would have easily mistaken him for a Fed. Grace finished buttoning up the black jacket she was wearing and Sam looked her up and down. "Let's go," she smiled innocently, grabbing a manilla folder from the table. Sam followed her out to the Impala. Dean had taken Grace's car, reluctantly lending the Impala to Sam, in order to give the two a more professional vehicle.

They got in the car quickly and silently; Grace sat more in the middle, crossing her legs criss-cross style underneath herself. She turned the radio on and left it. Dean had left the radio on a classic rock station and KISS blared throughout the car. Grace turned it down slightly.

"What's the info on the vic?" Sam asked as he pulled out of the motel parking lot and into the street.

Grace cleared her throat, opening up the folder and flipping through all the papers. "Robert B. Eastep," said Grace. "Thirty-eight years old. Married to Lynn Eastep with two kids - a nine year old daughter and twelve year old son. Says he was an office machine and cash register technician. Sounds like a normal, boring guy to me." She closed the file and looked at Sam, tucking her hair behind her ears. "Demon probably just killed him for the fun of it."

"Maybe," Sam answered. "But we don't know for sure."

Grace knew for sure.

As Sam pulled into the parking lot of the hospital - which wasn't more than seven minutes away - he hesitated before getting out. Turning to Grace, he pursed his lips. "Maybe you should stay here," he suggested, trying to sound as gentle as possible.

Crossing her arms, she shook her head and scoffed. "You don't trust me," she stated flatly and Sam raised his eyebrows, his mouth opening and closing, trying to find a response. "I've been doing this for years, Sam."

"It's not that -" Sam stuttered. He gripped the steering wheel tight and licked his lips. "I just - I don't know -"

"Sam," Grace began, not sounding angry, but understanding. She looked him in the eyes and smiled weakly. "I can see right through you. Why don't you trust me? I know I'm a hunter, but you should know more than anybody that being a hunter doesn't mean you can't be trusted."

He considered it, looking out the window and putting his hands in his lap. Awkward and embarrassed, he shifted in his seat slightly, not knowing what to say next to Grace. She was still smiling at him, a very small smile.

"Can I ask you something, Sam?"

Sam nodded and looked to her again.

"You ever been desperate?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Have you ever felt so hopeless and desperate," she continued, leaning back into the seat of the Impala and staring out the windshield. "That you'd do anything to make it all better?"

Sam studied her. He watched as her smile faded and her face became hard and serious. Grace's eyes became cold and glazed over. Everything about her became different and it made Sam curious. Nodding very slowly, Grace sighed. "Yeah."

Grace could only think about her father. She remembered the pool of blood in her parents' bed and the horrible smell of death. The look of terror on her mother's face and the solemn look on her father's. She thought of Crowley and how he had given her a way to avenge their deaths. She thought of hunting and why she really began to enjoy hunting. "I became a real, ambitious hunter out of desperation," Grace explained and Sam listened carefully. "And I have every intention of doing my job to the best of my ability. We're just trying to do the same thing and if you can't trust me, then I can't trust you."

Nodding again, Sam pocketed the keys. "Okay." Sam opened the door and Grace smiled to herself, following him. She shut the Impala door and led Sam into the hospital, holding the door open for him.

As she opened the door, Grace noticed how dead the hospital was. Maybe it was the location or lack of population, but she glanced at Sam and shrugged. Only one person was in the large waiting room with an ice-pack over their eye. Two receptionists sat at a half moon desk, typing furiously and staring at their computer monitors. Muttering out of the corner of her mouth to Sam, "I don't know what I expected," she walked up to the front desk and cleared her throat. "Excuse me, we're here to see the body of Mr. Robert Eastep."

The receptionist - a blonde, young woman with long, pink fingernails - raised an eyebrow. "And you are?"

Grace and Sam held up their FBI badges. "I'm Agent Walker and this is my partner, Agent Jones."

The receptionist briefly looked at their badges and then stood up, smiling a tad more politely. Grace stuck her badge back in her pocket again. "I'll go get the doctor for you," she said with a sigh and then left Sam and Grace alone.

Motioning towards the waiting room, Sam followed Grace to two chairs, sitting down. She picked up a health magazine and began flipping through the colored pictures. "What do you think we're going to see?" Sam whispered to her. "If it was a demon, then there won't be anything crazy wrong with the body."

"_If_ it was a demon." Grace tried to her best to convince Sam she was right. She needed to earn his trust, for she had already earned Dean's easily. But Sam was smarter than Dean. Sam was the brains of the two, just as Crowley was compared to Grace. "We'll know for sure after we see the body."

* * *

The doctor pulled the dead body from a compartment in the morgue. The smell of the dead body was enough to make a normal man gag, but Grace was so used to the smell that it didn't even bother her anymore. Sam and Grace put their gloves on and the doctor left them alone, shutting the door out of the morgue behind him. Grace lifted the sheet off the cadaver and cringed.

Robert's face was covered in deep gashes. His lip was split and seemed to have been healing for a while, there were three slices on his left eyebrow, and as Grace pulled the sheet down further, she noticed that there were cuts all over his abdomen as if he had a knife fight before dying. She scrunched her nose - that was definitely one of Crowley's more bloody kills.

Sam ran his fingers over the cuts in his chest and stomach and looked up at Grace. He grinned and pulled over a table of instruments, handing her a scalpel. "Care to do the honors?" he asked and Grace smiled brightly, taking the tool from him and clearing her throat, touching the blade to Robert's body.

"I'd love to." She made a large incision down the chest cavity and stomach and breathed in deeply before reaching inside to make sure all his organs were intact. Although, she knew that all the organs _would _be there. Sam checked around the head to see if his brain was still inside and making sure there were no fangs in his mouth or abnormal teeth. Grace felt for the heart, lungs, kidney, liver, stomach, pancreas, and every organ she could reach and they were all there. Had she not become a hunter, she definitely would have loved to be a surgeon. Taking her now bloody hands out of the cadaver, she shook them loose of all the guts and fat building up on her gloves. "Nothing's missing," she noted.

"Your diagnosis, Doctor Parks?" Sam cocked an eyebrow as Grace began to clean the body back up.

"Definitely a demon," she answered. "I'm sure of it. See the marks here on the stomach? Stab wounds. He must have went ape-shit with a demon possessing him and someone probably tried to attack him."

"You think Dean got anything?"

"I'm sure he'll find sulfur outside the house," Grace nodded, covering the body back up with the sheet and pushing it back into the cubby hole. "Or maybe his wife will know something. Five bucks says she's the one who stabbed him. Hope to God it wasn't the kids." She took her gloves off and pitched them in the trash can. "Our work here is done."

"That was easy," Sam sighed, throwing out his gloves. He ran his hands through his hair, smoothing it down, and then he opened the door for Grace. They walked out into the main hall of the hospital together and nodded a thank you at the Doctor, who was standing behind the receptionist's desk.

"What'd you expect?" chuckled Grace, jumping down the few steps out front of the building. She walked over to the Impala, sliding into the passenger seat. "We just had to make sure."

"Well, I am _exhausted_," Sam said dramatically, causing Grace to laugh more. "I think we have both earned a drink."

"Or two."

"Three?"

Grace glanced at Sam and he smiled at her, baring his straight teeth. "Well, if you're offering... How can I pass up an idea like that?"

Sam was the one to laugh that time. He pulled a fake credit card out of his wallet and held it up to the sunlight streaming through the windshield. "Drinks are on - er - Dylan Hicks tonight."

"Wonderful!" replied Grace excitedly,clapping her hands as Sam started up the car. "I love him already!"

* * *

The bar was noisy and full of a diverse selection of people. College students on break, old men looking like they had just been out hunting deer, couples who seemed awfully tired of each other, and then her and Sam. They had slammed back a few beers quickly and as Grace felt the buzzing in her head, she decided to take a break, not trying to get extremely drunk and embarrass herself in front of everyone, much less Sam. Sam was perfectly okay, though his tolerance was much higher considering how much bigger he was compared to Grace.

"So," Sam sighed contently after finishing a beer. Grace looked at him out of the corner of her and spun on her bar stool, facing him. He smiled innocently at her and thought to himself. "How is it that we have never met before this? I mean - how come Uncle Dale never brought you over?"

"I could ask the same thing about your father," Grace pointed out, raising her eyebrows with a grin. "He mentioned he had kids, but I never knew them."

"Dad raved about you," Sam said, folding his hands on the bar. "Said you were the cutest little girl he'd ever seen in his life." Grace laughed and blushed, running a hand through her hair. "Said that maybe one day, you'd marry a Winchester."

"I think our dads planned that," giggled Grace. "Your father, when he'd come over for dinner on rare occasions, he'd tell me how wonderful his sons were and how handsome they'd grow to be. How strong they were."

"Be honest with me," smirked Sam. "Have we lived up to your expectations?"

Grace gave Sam a playful slap and drank the last sip of her beer. "I pictured tall, tan, and handsome. You're just as I expected."

Both Sam and Grace shared a laugh. "All right, another question," Sam continued.

"Shoot," she answered quickly, flagging down the bartender for another beer.

"You and Cas," Sam hesitated, not sure how to continue. What was he trying to ask, anyway? "You guys know each other?"

Grace shook her head and laughed to herself. "We do now," she replied. "The first time I met him was when you introduced us."

"Then what do you two have to talk about?"

She leaned in close to Sam and for a moment, he thought she was going to give him a straight answer. "We're secretly in love," she whispered and Sam's face fell. "We've all got secrets, Sam. Can I call you Sammy?"

"No."

"Aw."

To the right of Grace, a man approached her, sitting in the empty seat beside her. She gave him a once-over. He was a handsome man about thirty, dressed neatly in a silk shirt with a tie. His dark hair was combed back and Grace looked away, back to Sam, who gave her a small smile.

"Can I buy you a drink, darling?" asked the man in a sultry voice and Grace cocked an eyebrow and looked at the man again. Sure, he was handsome, but Sam was the one buying her drinks that night.

"No, thanks."

"Please, sweetheart," the man smiled. "I insist."

"I said 'no, thank you,'" she repeated, growing irritated. While normally, she would have just kept politely declining, the annoying effects of the alcohol were making her agitated for no reason in particular.

"A pretty young girl shouldn't have to drink by themselves."

"I'm not by myself," snapped Grace. Sam was now looking the man up and down, sizing him up. "I'm with my friend. Now, please leave us alone."

"Do you know him?" asked Sam and the man overheard, beaming proudly.

"Know _me_?" chuckled the man and Grace shot him a confused look. She whispered to Sam that she wished to move, but the man continued and Grace stayed to listen. "Miss Parks and I have known each other for a long time." Grace opened her mouth to protest, but she didn't have the chance. Her face contorted into a confused expression. "How long has it been? _Six years_ now, am I right?"

Grace held her breath and pursed her lips, turning back to Sam. _Damn it._ "Excuse us, Sam," she said quickly and she jumped off her stool, grabbing the man's arm, pushing through the thick crowd, and escorting him out the back door of the bar into a dark and damp alleyway. Pushing him against the brick wall of the bar with all the force and strength she could muster, she hissed, "What the _hell_ are you doing here?" Grace smacked his chest hard. "You arrogant son of a bitch!"

"Can't a man buy a darling friend a drink?" Crowley teased playfully, catching her hand as she went to hit him again. Grace wasn't laughing and he let her go. She took a step back, crossing her arms and tapping her foot angrily. He was very used to Grace's child-like attitude. She reminded him slightly of his own son when he would have an attitude, but of course, Crowley loved Grace much more than his own son. "I'm just checking up on you."

"And you think that now is the proper time?" scoffed Grace, rolling her eyes at his insane logic. "I've got a Winchester in there and you decide to just come and pop up randomly?"

Crowley looked down, brushing his arms off. He frowned. "I thought you'd be happy to see me, sweetheart."

Grace was certainly always happy to see Crowley, no matter what she said to him. But it annoyed her that he was always "checking up on her" at the worst times possible. "You killed that innocent man," Grace stated flatly, raising her eyebrows to let Crowley know she wasn't okay with that. "Sam and I just checked out the body today."

"What's one man out of billions?" reasoned Crowley, shrugging his shoulders and grinning. It was odd for Grace to hear him speak without his accent. The accent was one of the many reasons that Grace adored him so much. "Besides, I had to give you some kind of lead. Oh! Do you like the new look? I chose it just for you."

Blushing furiously, Grace laughed and Crowley knew that he had won her over again. "It's a big change, but - er - yes, very handsome."

"Knew you'd appreciate it," winked Crowley. "No naughty dreams about me tonight, hm?"

"You should go," she told him, her cheeks hot with embarrassment. Grace gathered herself and stood up straighter. She glanced around to make sure no one was listening or watching. Half-expecting Sam to come out and make sure she was okay, she kept a close eye on the door. "Sam is going to get suspicious if I'm out here any longer."

Crowley sighed and smacked his lips. "My dear," he began, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. She squirmed; the man who he was possessing had huge, bear-like hands and he was gripping her shoulder rather tight without noticing it. "If you continue to become friendlier with the boys, it's going to be harder for you to lead them to me."

Grace was quiet and she shrugged Crowley's hand off her shoulder.

"Have you been thinking about changing your mind?"

"No," Grace shot back. "You know I've never had real friends. Let me treasure them for at least a little bit before they die like everyone else you've had me meet."

Crowley gave her a sad look and Grace looked at her feet, kicking the pebbles on the ground towards him. "The only friend you need is me, sweetheart. Friends that are hunters are weaknesses. And you don't need a weakness, Grace. Don't let emotions get in the way of work."

Licking her lips, Grace thought this over. Maybe Crowley was right - maybe she was taking too long. Maybe she was putting her emotions before her assignments. Maybe she just had to lead the boys to Crowley before they became good friends. This assignment was so unlike the rest. The hunters were her age and they were related somehow. They were easy to get along with. Slowly, she was breaking down their walls and defenses. But at the same time, they were doing the same to her. "I'm not," replied Grace, shoving her hands deep in the pockets of her jeans. "I'm just making sure that I get this done right without fucking it up. Now _go_, before Sam decides to 'check up on me' and decides I can't be trusted again." She thought quickly, tapping her chin and talking to her herself. "Probably going to be sulfur everywhere tomorrow... they'll pick up on that."

"Good chat," sighed Crowley, ignoring her last comment, and clapping his hands together causing Grace to jump. "I'll see you again soon. I very much despise drinking by myself. Mind walking me back in?"

Grace nodded and held onto Crowley's arm again loosely. He opened the back door of the bar and held it open for her, shutting it behind him as they once again entered the noisy building. Crowley escorted her back to her seat beside Sam and she gave the Winchester a big smile, trying to get him to realize everything was okay. "Need another drink?" Sam asked her quietly and Grace breathed a thank you, grinning gratefully.

"Well, it was lovely talking to you, darling," Crowley took Grace's hand and kissed it softly, glancing at Sam. "I'll see you soon, then?"

"Of course."


	9. Chapter 9

Hello, readers. I'm trying to write more often to keep my mind off things. I will be attending the seventh funeral of my high school career soon and I need something to distract me. Please let me know what you think of the story, I'm really trying! A big thank you to everyone who reads this - enjoy!

**CHAPTER 9:**

Crowley somehow always found himself watching Grace, invisible to the human eye. He kept track of her, always one step ahead, ready to plan his next move before she even knew what was coming. He listened in on her conversations with hunters and civilians, making sure she was staying faithful to him and carrying on the assignment he gave to her. That's how Crowley knew Grace so well. She had commented on his extensive knowledge of her before, but never knew it was from hours - years - of watching her in silence.

However, Crowley's duty as King of the Crossroads beckoned, and he hadn't had as much time to spy on his hitman. He hadn't been able to listen in on conversations between her, Sam, and Dean, and he hadn't been able to see if Castiel was still following her and threatening her. Crowley figured if that was still going on, Grace would speak up, because she was one to let Crowley know nearly everything. According to her, everything was going smoothly, but Crowley knew otherwise. Grace was easy to read. She was a simple book, wearing her emotions on her sleeve.

There was one thing about Grace that Crowley wished he could change. She was lonely. She craved attention and love. She never had time to make friends, for she was constantly helping Crowley find hunters. Grace appreciated all the time Crowley spent with her and appreciated him toning down the sarcasm while speaking with her. But Crowley wasn't the sort of person to be lovey-dovey, especially towards a young, female human. Then again, Crowley wasn't exactly human and hadn't been for hundreds of years, so he didn't really understand the need for love like Grace wanted. He had gotten along fine by himself for so long - why couldn't Grace?

Crowley simply chalked it up to female hormones.

* * *

Grace, Dean, and Sam met up at the boys' motel room later that night. Grace explained that all organs were still left in the body, while Dean explained what had happened the night Robert was found dead. Apparently, Robert was a calm and loving husband and father, and it was surprising one night to find that the older man was violent and harsh towards his wife and kids. When seeing her husband's eyes go all black after rushing her, Mrs. Eastep lunged at him with a knife and stabbed him until he fell to the ground and black smoke rose from his mouth and out the open front door. Mrs. Eastep was currently awaiting a trial, prepared to plead guilty, while the two children were living with their aunt and uncle.

So Crowley had caused an innocent man to be murdered and an innocent woman to be put in prison. He had taken away the parents of two kids and that almost infuriated her. Didn't Crowley remember that both of _her_ parents were killed? Why would he take away the caretakers of two young children?

"Did you find sulfur?" asked Grace, tugging at her hair gently in frustration.

Dean nodded and the three took a moment of silence to think. Grace stood up and put her hands on top of her head, pacing around the room, trying to think of what to do next. At first, she planned to bring Dean and Sam back to the bar because she was sure that Crowley would have left sulfur there. That was a hint. That was a clue. But Sam knew that she had gone out back with Crowley and might assume that Grace was working with a demon. With the demon they were trying to hunt.

Rubbing his face and eyes, Dean breathed out heavily. "I might call Cas," he suggested, mostly talking to himself than to everyone else. "Before more innocent people are hurt. Robert didn't know anything about hunting. Didn't know anything about demons or monsters or angels."

Grace began to wonder - maybe calling Castiel was a good idea. Maybe Castiel would lead them right to Crowley and Grace could turn them over right away without developing anymore feelings for them. Crowley was right about her. She was becoming too friendly with them, spending too much time with them. "It's almost midnight, Dean," Grace told him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Dean looked so guilty that Grace almost felt bad. "Call Cas tomorrow. It's okay to wait a few hours."

"Why can't we find this son of a bitch?" Dean asked gruffly, falling back onto his bed. He scratched at the stubble on his chin and closed his eyes. "We've hunted plenty of demons before. I've been hunting for years. Why is this so hard?"

"Cas doesn't sleep," muttered Sam, stroking his chin. "Maybe we should just call him now." He took a seat on the other bed and Grace was the last one standing. She crossed her arms and traced her top teeth with her tongue. She felt the sharp edges of her canine teeth and pressed her tongue against them, trying so hard to think on her feet.

Without moving or opening his eyes, Dean began to talk. "Cas, get your winged-ass down here before -"

"Hello, Dean."

Grace jumped a foot into the air and spun around, seeing Castiel standing in the back corner of the room, moving towards the three of them. He glanced at Grace and then looked away and at Sam. Dean shot up in bed and smiled slightly, glad that Castiel heard his lame prayer and answered. Castiel gave him a nod of acknowledgement and Dean returned the gesture.

"What is it you need?" Castiel continued, his voice flat and dull as ever. Grace half wished that his voice was slightly more exciting so it would be easier to listen to him.

"I'm sure you've heard about the murder that happened recently," Dean said, standing up and pointed to a newspaper article on the nightstand. Castiel did not read it, but simply nodded, knowing exactly what Dean was talking about. "We gotta stop this." He paused stuck his hands in his pockets. "But we don't know how. You have to help us out, here."

Castiel blinked slowly. "I can't."

"I'm sorry," scoffed Dean. "You _can't_?"

"That's right."

"Hold on," Sam interrupted, standing up and licking his bottom lip. "What do you mean you _can't_? You're an _angel_. Can't you do _anything_?"

The angel shot Sam a dark look. Grace laughed quietly to herself at Castiel's look. He heard her and turned to face her. Grace's smile fell and she looked away, biting her lip. "I'm sorry, but my time here is limited. I'm needed in Heaven."

"Don't leave yet," Grace snapped and Castiel looked at her with a half raised eyebrow. "Answer their damn questions. Don't just pull your usual shit. Straight answers and _then_ you can go."

Dean and Sam watched as Castiel stepped towards Grace, mere inches from her face. He was slightly taller and peered down at her through disdainful eyes. Castiel lowered his voice, speaking in hardly a whisper. "You are small, you are weak, you are pathetic. You have no right to speak to me like that - you have nothing but a demon to protect you."

Grace and Castiel held each other's stare for a long time and Sam and Dean exchanged strange glances. "I know what you're trying to do," Grace whispered back and she spoke a little louder; Dean and Sam listened to her, trying to figure out what the hell they were even talking about in the first place. "You're trying to dig into my brain. You're trying to make me feel guilty. You promised you'd help and you have failed to hold up your end of the bargain, so I don't see why I can't talk to you how I please."

"You watch your tongue," Castiel told her plainly, his eyebrows furrowed. "Or it might not be there when you wake up tomorrow morning."

Grace clicked her tongue and shook her head. "You don't scare me."

"I suppose a small man like this would not intimidate the most faint-hearted. It is a shame you aren't able to see my true form." There was a slight hesitation as Castiel's eyes glanced at her mouth to see that it was trembling. Grace put on a brave front, but she was shaking and screaming internally. She eyed up Castiel's vessel. There was absolutely nothing intimidating at all about the man he had taken over - he was, in fact, rather handsome and Grace blushed while thinking about it.

"Hate to break up the love fest, but, uh -" Dean touched Grace's shoulder and lightly pushed her away from Castiel. The angel looked at Dean and swallowed loud. "I'd rather you not waste your precious time here on Earth arguing with her."

"Where's the -"

Castiel had disappeared before Sam could get the question out.

* * *

Grace had driven back to her motel room in a rage. Dean and Sam went to bed shortly after Castiel's disappearance, frustrated to no end with him. Once Grace arrived at her room, she nearly kicked the door down and locked the door behind her, throwing the vase of plants off her table. They crashed to the floor, water seeping everywhere, but she made no effort to clean it up and fell face down onto her rough mattress.

Sleep would come easy to her. She already had a few drinks and was still exhausted from her day. Arguing with Crowley _and_ Castiel, drinking with Sam, opening up a dead body, drinking more at the motel... Grace suddenly wondered how she got home. She was exhausted...

Falling asleep within the next five minutes, Grace dreamt of home. But it was different this time. She was herself, her age, and the house was exactly as it had been for the past six years. The pictures that Grace had put up were all there. There was scotch on her kitchen counter and two empty glasses that Crowley always left there. Dead weeds on her kitchen table in a watered vase that Crowley had picked out of her backyard for her twenty-second birthday. Clean dishes that had recently been washed hadn't been put away into separate cupboards yet. The loveseat in her living room was turned slightly from when Crowley had sat there the last time he visited her at home.

The only thing out of place was Castiel, sitting on her couch, staring at the blank television screen. She approached him, the hardwood floor cold on her bare feet. Looking down at herself to make sure she was presentable, Grace suddenly became self-conscious, clad in shorts and a tank-top. She held her arms over her chest, so used to Crowley's remarks about her small breasts, that hiding them was almost a habit.

"I want to -" There was a moment's silence as Castiel looked up at her ceiling. Grace hadn't expected him to pop in for a visit, but she was cautious as she made her way to the loveseat. She sat down and crossed her legs, folding her hands in her lap. "Apologize."

That was a shock. What was Castiel apologizing for? He had nothing _to_ apologize for. It was Grace who was after Dean and Sam. It was Grace who had been lying and manipulating him. It was Grace who gave him attitude. "I - I'm sorry?"

"I couldn't come to your motel," Castiel continued and Grace raised her eyebrows. "I was worried that Crowley might show up."

"At one o'clock in the morning?" chuckled Grace nervously. "Even Crowley knows not to visit me at that hour."

"You were right. I haven't been holding up my end of the bargain," Castiel sighed and he stood up. Grace remained seating, watching him closely as he examined the pictures of her and her family on the mantle above the fireplace. There were four pictures there on the mantle; the first was of Grace as a newborn, in her mother's arms while in the hospital; the second was of Grace as a seven year old, posing in her Halloween costume as a witch (black, pointed hat included); the third was of Mr. and Mrs. Parks on their wedding day, her mother looking extra beautiful in her wedding dress with long, dark curly hair, and her father neatly groomed with his short, blonde hair and a broad, proud smile on his face; the last picture confused Castiel - it was a picture of terribly quality, as it had been taken with Grace's phone - and it was of Grace, taking the picture herself, her arm stretched out in front of her. What surprised Castiel most was who was in the picture with her. Crowley's cheek was pressed against her's and Grace's free arm was wrapped around her neck. She was so young and innocent looking, the smile across her face obviously genuine. Crowley gave the camera a sarcastic smile with his eyebrows raised, at least pretending to be glad she was taking a picture of them both.

Grace noticed him staring at the last picture, rather intrigued. "I was eighteen when I took that," she explained. "Decided to get it developed. Crowley told me he looked 'dashing' in the picture, so I framed it for his amusement."

"What do you find appealing about Crowley?"

"Appealing?" Grace repeated as Castiel turned away from the picture and back to her. She grinned. "Well, it's certainly not his looks. I think it's his accent. Very charming."

"Now is not the time for jokes, Grace," Castiel replied harshly.

"You want the truth?" said Grace. She stood up and put her hands on her hips, licking her lips. "What I like most about Crowley? The fact that he can follow up on deals. The fact that he can take care of me. That he's helping me get revenge. I don't care that he's a demon. I don't care that he's King of the Crossroads - he nicer than most hunters I've met and damn nicer than you. Crowley doesn't beat me up and leave me to die in an alleyway. Maybe he does crack a few jokes about my body, but I can deal with that. Maybe he gets me extremely drunk a lot - I can deal with that, too. But in between those perverted jokes and drinking sessions, he does his best to keep up with what I sold my soul for. He helps me hunt, he's made me stronger, and he's promised me revenge. _That_ is why I like Crowley, you ass. Are you happy now? Now, get out of my dream."

"Please, Grace, we need to talk -"

"Only if you answer my question."

Castiel nodded slowly after thinking about it for a few seconds. "What's your question?"

"Why are Dean and Sam so important?" she asked. "I - I've never had to deal with angels in the six years I've been hunting. I just... find it strange that both demons and angels want them."

"They're very important," Castiel answered quietly, holding his hands behind his back and walking around the living room. He looked into the fireplace, tapped the television set, and finally settled onto the loveseat, right next to the place Grace had been sitting. She didn't want to sit next to him, afraid he might try and hurt her, but he looked so harmless, like a lost puppy dog. "They have a destiny to fulfill. They must not die."

Grace considered his answer. Destiny? Why hadn't Crowley mentioned that? Did he want to capture or kill them? She looked away and picked up the picture of her and Crowley, running a finger through the streak of dust that had piled up on the photo. "No one can hear us, right?"

"We're inside your own mind," Castiel said. "We're alone."

"They're nice boys, Dean and Sam," sighed Grace. "I like them. I've never met hunters like them before."

Castiel nodded in agreement. "They are very different from anyone I've ever met."

"They're my friends."

He stared at her and pursed his lips. Grace took a seat beside Castiel and held her head in her hands.

"Crowley said that I shouldn't get so close to them because I may not be able to go through with leading them to him," Grace continued, grabbing chunks of her hair. "But I - I just don't know. They knew my father. They liked my father. I have a hard time believing they had anything to do with his murder."

Castiel's ears perked. This is what he wanted to hear. And it was completely sincere. Grace was glad that Castiel was talking to her because she needed to get it all out. She couldn't talk to Crowley about it, or Dean or Sam, because she'd probably be killed. Grace was confused and conflicted and needed to know what to do next. For the last six years of her life, Crowley had been telling her what to do every step of the way - she hardly had time to think for herself. She needed someone to help her, desperately.

Grace looked Castiel in the eyes. "I'm having doubts, Castiel."

"We can fix this."

"We can't," snapped Grace, looking away. "I can't do anything or else I'll die. You don't understand what Crowley would do to me. It's either them or me and I bet you're on their team, am I right?"

"I - I'm not on a team."

"Right," Grace muttered under her breath. "Well, there's nothing I can do. You have to understand, I _have_ to do this."

"You do not have to do anything," Castiel told her and Grace met his eyes again. "With help, you can get out of this deal."

She frowned, shaking her head. "You're wrong," insisted Grace. "Nothing can be done to save me. I've already killed plenty of people - what's two more? I've already got a spot reserved in Hell with my name on it. I don't want to go to Hell yet."

"I'm afraid that, no matter what, I cannot help you escape your fate in Hell," Castiel said sadly and Grace nodded, already assuming that. She knew that she had committed too many atrocities to even have a small chance of going to Heaven. "But I can help you escape Crowley. You must be willing to work with us. If you go against me, I will have no choice but to kill you. Sam and Dean are too precious to my Father and I must help keep them alive at all costs."

"Oh, wonderful," Grace laughed incredulously. She rolled her eyes. "So I have to pick between you and Crowley? If I go against Crowley, he'll be trying to kill me, I know that for a fact. If I refuse to side with you, you'll kill me. How is any of this helping _me_? It seems like I'm just getting a damn death sentence."

"I don't trust you," Castiel told her plainly. Grace shrugged. Not many people did. She would have been amazed if Castiel had trusted her completely. "And with your past, it is highly unlikely that I will ever trust you."

"Then why don't you just kill me?" Grace challenged. "I don't have the time to be earning your trust. I have better things to do, Castiel."

"Show me you can be trusted and I swear to you, you will walk away from this mess unscathed."

Grace closed her eyes briefly and heard the flapping of wings. Without opening her eyes, Grace knew Castiel was gone.


	10. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER 10:**

There was a honk outside Grace's motel room and she jumped, gathering her stuff and packing her bag. She heard the low rumble of the Impala's engine and quickly zippered her backpack, throwing it over her shoulder and flattening her hair with her fingers. Grace took one last look at her room, making sure everything dangerous was put away and hidden well, in case the housekeeper decided to swing by for a surprise cleaning. Even though the sign on her door said "Do not disturb," Grace was still extremely paranoid, for many maids at sketchy motels liked to go through her stuff while she was gone. Opening the door, she met Dean's eyes and he waved.

Dean had caught wind of a strange occurrence a few miles outside town. A middle-aged man was found in his apartment, dead, with severe third-degree burns all over his body, but no sign of a fire anywhere in the entire apartment complex. Right away, Grace knew it was Crowley. But she was certainly excited to go check out the scene of the crime. All three of them were dressed in their Fed uniforms, their fake badges in their inside pocket.

With Foreigner blasting through the car speakers, Grace tried to think hard about her discussion with Castiel in her dream. It was the hardest decision she had ever been faced with - get killed by Crowley or Castiel? Hunt Sam and Dean or hunt Crowley? Stay faithful or rebel? Have real, human friends or a single demon friend? There was no doubt in Grace's mind that she honestly and sincerely cared about the boys in the front seat of the Impala. She cared about the older brother, bobbing his head to the beat of the song, tapping his hands on the steering wheel and mouthing the lyrics. She cared about the younger brother, staring out the window, his left knee bouncing slightly, his long hair being blown about by the wind coming through Dean's open window. Grace appreciated their company, whether it was in the Impala, in a motel room, at a diner, or at a bar. It was so strange and so foreign, the feeling of friendship, because the only friend she ever really had was Crowley and he wasn't anything near normal. Dean and Sam weren't normal, either, but they were human. They had souls. They had beating hearts. They had kind, gentle hearts. Nothing like the black hole that Grace was sure sat in the middle of Crowley's chest.

What was more, Dean and Sam Winchester reminded Grace so much of her father. Whenever she looked at them, she saw John Winchester. When she thought of John Winchester, she thought of his brief hunting partner, Dale Parks. Oh, how she missed him. Now that she thought about it, her first real friend was her father. He never lost his head, never yelled at her, never hit her. Dale Parks was always patient and loving and compassionate, his daughter and her safety the most important thing to him. Even as hunting became a bigger part of his life and even as Grace's parents slowly drifted apart from each other, Dale Parks was always thinking of his daughter. He was always thinking about her future - he wanted so badly for her to follow in his footsteps, but was it worth it? Was all the killing and death worth it? Dale wanted his daughter to succeed, but his idea of success was much different than the average person's. Grace's father didn't care if she didn't want to go to college. He didn't care about school. He cared about her future as a hunter. Dale wanted Grace to succeed and excel at hunting.

As much as Grace wanted her father back, she could never let him see what she had done. She had sold her soul to a demon - bound herself to one for the rest of her life. She secured a place in Hell, away from her father and mother, who she knew were resting peacefully in Heaven. Grace had cooked Crowley dinner, they drank together - hell, there was a picture of the two next to her parents' wedding picture! What would Dale Parks say if he knew his daughter was friendly with a demon? Maybe he wouldn't be angry. After all, Grace had bargained with Crowley to avenge her mother and father's death. They would be proud, wouldn't they? Proud to know how much Grace loved her family.

Could she really pick Crowley over everyone else? Over Dean and Sam? Dale and John wanted Grace to grow up and marry one of the Winchester sons. Not a demon. Certainly not Crowley. Then again, Grace was only having a hard time convincing herself to side with them because of Castiel. She would never forget that angels and humans had been the ones to slay her family. They left her alone. They left her without any knowledge of it. They left her alone without warning her. If Castiel was not involved, Grace felt it would be easier to help Dean and Sam.

But something about Castiel bothered her. He was good friends with Dean and Sam. He was good friends with _hunters_. What if they were secretly conspiring to kill _her_? To finish off the Parks family for good? What if Dean and Sam were having exactly the same doubts that she was?

"Grace?" Dean shook her arm and she blinked, looking at the eldest sibling. "You okay?"

"Fine," she replied, grabbing a handgun out of her bag. "Just tired." Grace exited the car and noticed something was off right away. They were at the right apartment, she knew that for a fact, but they were the only people there. There were no other cars, not even of other residents. No policemen stood at the door, guarding the entrance from curious strangers. No ambulances were there, putting the dead man on a gurney, lifting him into the back of the truck. No investigators were there, taking notes and talking to policemen. Not even the news team was there, setting up their tripod cameras and telling the same story over and over again.

The three hunters stood awkwardly, looking up at the tall, abandoned building, dressed up in their uniforms. Everyone knew it was strange, but no one spoke about it. They shared confused looks and Dean led the pack towards the front door, opening it and pulling a gun from the back of his pants. Grace cocked her gun and held it out. Sam held up the rear, making sure the coast was clear and no one was watching. Dean stopped suddenly and got down on his knees, examining yellow dust in the corner of the doorway. He touched it and stood up again. "Sulfur," he murmured. "What apartment, Sammy?"

"Four A," answered Sam, his voice echoing in the empty hallway.

Grace watched very carefully as they ascended up the stairs, not sure if Crowley was going to appear out of nowhere or not. If she knew Crowley, she assumed that he wouldn't make the hunt this easy. But Crowley was always full of both pleasant and unpleasant surprises. Grace honestly didn't know if she wanted Crowley to be there or not.

Finally reaching the man's apartment, Dean looked at Grace and Sam to see if they were ready. With a curt nod from both, Dean kicked the door down and was surprised to find no one there. The entire apartment building was empty with no trace of tenants. Had Crowley scared everyone away? Had Crowley killed everybody? Why weren't the police there? It didn't make sense - unless Crowley had set them up. Sam shut the door behind him.

"Face it, Dean," Sam sighed, putting his gun down. "There's no one here."

"This doesn't make sense," Dean said to himself, looking all around the small apartment. "Where is everyone?"

"It doesn't matter," Sam answered, nodding towards the door. "C'mon, let's get out of here. It's a dead end."

Grace walked to the doorway and touched the doorknob. "Ow!" she cried. Immediately, she pulled her hand off, having been burnt. The bronze knob was hot - it was burning, red hot - and Grace fell back into Dean, his strong body keeping her steady and on her feet. She unloaded her gun and put it in the waistband of her pants, holding her throbbing hand. "Oh, this isn't good..."

Sam approached the door and shot a few rounds near the door knob, causing the door to open automatically. "Damn," breathed Sam.

Grace's eyes went wide with fear as she observed the scene. Fire was quickly engulfing the apartment complex and it began to spread into the apartment they were in. The thick, black smoke was entering Grace's lungs and she heaved, covering her mouth with her hand, trying to get oxygen. Sweat began to form on her forehead and Sam bolted out the door, heading for the stairs leading to the entrance they came in. Grace started and leaped over the flames that were growing higher in the doorway, knowing Dean was close behind her.

Trailing behind the tallest Winchester, Grace weaved her way through the burning building. No matter where she went, there was fire. She didn't know how it happened - although she had a hunch - but she needed to get out of there before the building began to collapse. The wood on the walls was already burning and turning black, threatening to break. The dust burned her lungs and throat and her chest heaved. She realized how long it was taking them to get out; with fire everywhere, she had to watch her step, and the three were moving slower than she thought. Grace felt the flames growing hotter as they made the back of her legs sting and she tried to maneuver faster through the complex.

There was a crash, but Grace paid no attention to it until she heard someone calling her name. "_Grace_!" gasped Dean's voice. "_Grace_!" Grace stopped in her tracks and slowly turned around, wiping the sweat off her cheeks with the back of her hand. Dean, who had been right behind her the whole time, was nowhere to be found. Sam had made it down the second to last flight of stairs and was waving her on, hoping she would hurry. She hesitated and Sam ran back up to her, grabbing her wrist and trying to drag her from the destruction, not realizing that Dean was no longer with them.

"Dean's in there!" Grace shouted over the crackling of the flames and Sam's face went ghost white. Without thinking, she pried her wrist from Sam's grasp and ran back into the flames and burning wood, listening for Dean's voice calling her name.

She could hear Dean pleading for help and calling her name and Sam's. His calls got louder and louder as she got deeper into the fire. The smoke was so thick, she could hardly see. She didn't know if Sam was still behind her or not. Grace coughed and her eyes watered and burned, but she continued on, retracing her steps and trying to find Dean's figure among the rubble. Pieces of wood had crashed from the ceiling and more of the roof threatened to fall soon.

"Dean?" she called out, hoping he would answer. Behind her, there was another crash and she swore loudly when she realized that she was now separated from Sam. The other half of the ceiling had crashed down and was blocking the stairwell, the only way to the exit.

"Grace, here!"

Momentarily distracted from the fact she was now stuck, Grace ran over to the voice and found Dean lodged under several pieces of heavy wood. His shirt was singed and his pants had burn holes in them. He attempted to lift the wood, but failed, sighing sadly. Dean's face, black from the smoke, made him look unrecognizable. If it wasn't for the brilliant green eyes, she would never have known it was him. "Stay still," she ordered him, her voice shaking. Grace breathed in deeply and put her hands on the wood that was fiery hot. She cried out in pain, but with Dean's extra strength, they both lifted the debris off his body. He slowly crawled out of the way, severely injured. There were horrible burns all over his body and he was breathing slowly. Grace tried to help Dean to his feet, but there was no way. "_Sam_!" she screamed, but she could not hear him shout a response. "_Sammy_!" Still, nothing. "Don't worry, Dean, we'll get out of here."

With Dean slowly slipping into unconsciousness, Grace got down on her knees and supported Dean's torso in her arms, forcing him to sit up. His eyes were shut, but she could feel him breathing. She began to panic, looking around for another doorway or window. She didn't know what to do and she needed help. Grace thought briefly about calling Crowley to her side for help, but decided against it, knowing that he would take Dean and Sam away without question and she wasn't ready for that.

There was a loud crack and pop. Grace looked up. The last of the ceiling beams were cracking and burning quickly, about to fall on them both. "Come on, Dean..." she muttered, trying to pull him out of the way. As the ceiling began to fall, she gave up and threw her body over Dean, shielding him from the heavy roof about to collapse. There was one more option she could think of and she thought hard, hoping it would work and hoping she wasn't about to get severely injured or die.

Grace shut her eyes tight and felt something hit her body, but it wasn't burning hot wood, it was someone's _hands_. It was strangely cool all of a sudden and she could breathe fresh air. She took in deep, steady breaths. After catching her breath, she opened her eyes. Grace was still lying on top of an unconscious Dean, but they were outside, huddled on gravel.

Sitting up, Sam rushed to his brother's side. Sam had made it out okay. Grace sighed a huge sigh of relief. Shaking Dean, Sam tried to get him to wake up. Knowing he was still alive, Grace did not worry. The crashing of the building distracted Grace and she watched as the apartment complex fell floor by floor, finally reducing to nothing but a pile of debris and ashes. She turned around, still heaving and gasping for air, and saw Castiel standing a few feet back. Holding back a smile, Grace thanked God that Castiel had heard her prayer. Moving away slightly from Dean to give him room to breathe, she laid down on the concrete, inhaling and exhaling slowly and contently, closing her eyes and stretching out her arms and legs, letting the cool, crisp breeze wrap her up in its refreshing arms.

Tears of relief sprang to her eyes, but she would have told someone her eyes were watering because of the smoke. Her heart was racing and she could feel her body pulsing. But Grace was so relieved and so happy; had Castiel not shown up in time, both she and Dean would have been dead, burnt to a crisp. She watched as Castiel walked slowly over to Dean and knelt down, pressing his hand to Dean's chest. Dean's eyes opened and he gasped for air, sitting up straight and looking around. Castiel stood up and Dean flashed Grace a smile.

His skin wasn't burnt anymore. His hands weren't blackened from the smoke and blisters weren't forming where his clothes had been singed. Dean's skin was clean and healthy. Thanking Castiel with a slight nod, the angel stared at him in return. As Sam and Dean talked quietly amongst themselves, Castiel found himself next to Grace again, offering her a hand up off the ground. She took it gratefully and jumped to her feet, brushing herself off. Castiel touched a hand to her face and she felt all the pain leave her body and the thick, black smoke leaving her face.

Grace watched the brothers whisper excitedly and Grace crossed her arms, glancing at Castiel out of the corner of her eye. "Thank you for answering me," said Grace quietly, biting the inside of her cheek. "I understand you're busy in Heaven."

"Dean had already called me," Castiel replied and Grace cocked an eyebrow. She gave a small smile and scoffed. "But I saw you going after him."

"So you were going to save him anyway?" she asked, watching Sam help Dean to his feet. They continued to chat, occasionally grinning. "I just risked my life for nothing?"

Castiel shrugged innocently. "I just wanted to see what you would do."

Grace smiled proudly and stuck her nose slightly in the air. "I wouldn't have done that for anyone else, you know. Except maybe Sam," she whispered, afraid that someone was going to hear them. Castiel stared straight ahead at the two.

"I know," said Castiel. "I know you wouldn't."

She chuckled. "I was scared shitless." Grace wiped some sweat off her forehead, still trembling after her close encounter. Thankfully, she had not been too injured. There was a pregnant pause that fell over the two. "I want in."

"In on what?"

"I can't kill them," she admitted softly. "They're my friends. They're my only friends."

Castiel sighed. "I'm glad you made up your mind." Another awkward silence as Sam and Dean continued their conversation. Sam spoke with hand gestures, his mouth wide open and Dean was laughing hard. Dean hunched over with his hands on his hips and his smile was from ear to ear. Sam finished talking and looked upwards, letting out a 'ha!'. "I suppose I did misjudge your character after all."

"I didn't think I would ever care about people like this that weren't Crowley," Grace explained, kicking the gravel at her feet.

Castiel hesitated and licked his lips. "Why did you do it?" Castiel finally asked and he turned to face her. Grace spun on her heels, looking at him. She realized they were closed than she expected, his body only about two feet away. She knew exactly what he was talking about. Many hunters asked the same thing when they found out she was assisting Crowley, but she never gave an honest answer. She never answered at all. But this time was different.

"I wanted the power," she told Castiel, unable to meet his eyes. "I wanted to be respected. I wanted to be known. I wanted to be great. I wanted the reputation. I wanted people to fear me - to hear my name and shudder. I wanted the hunters who conspired against my father to regret every touching my parents'. I was just a kid, you know? A kid with no family, no life, no friends. I was greedy. Crowley warned me that it would be too much responsibility, but I didn't listen. I never wanted _this_ to happen."

Castiel was quiet, waiting for her to continue her story. For a moment, he thought she had finished, but by the way she opened and closed her mouth, trying to find the words to say, he knew there was so much more.

"And sometimes I wake up and think about putting a gun to my head and just ending it all. Just pulling the trigger quick. But that wouldn't help me. I'd still wake up in Hell, probably next to Crowley. There's no way I can escape what I've done. This is my entire life and sometimes I'm terrified. I thought I was happy. I really did. And I think I was for a little while. I had the power and the respect and the reputation, but I thought it would be good for me. I thought that seeking revenge would make me feel less guilty. But sometimes I just - I've never felt pain like this before."

More silence.

"I need you to promise me that if I help you, Dean, and Sam -" she finally looked up to meet Castiel's stare. "You'll get me out of this deal. Because I don't know if I can keep doing this."

Castiel thought Grace to be cold and secretive, never expecting something like that to come out of her mouth. Half of him wished that he hadn't asked the question in the first place. Grace had definitely earned his trust for the meantime. He thought she sounded very sincere, but she was an experienced liar.

"Now," she sighed, seeming a bit happier. "Now that I've spilled my life to you, you owe me at least secret, and I'm holding you to it." Castiel glared at her and Sam and Dean turned towards her and began walking to meet the two. "And this conversation _never happened_."


	11. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER 11:**

Six years ago

New Years Eve

_Grace fiddled with her new Iphone, scrolling down the address book that only contained fifteen numbers. They were hunters that she had once befriended and she had once manipulated. Rather than deleting the obsolete numbers, she kept them in there to make the address book seem full. When Grace found out that Crowley owned an Iphone and she didn't, she had a fit and promised herself she'd buy one the first opportunity she got. How could Crowley have a nicer phone than her? He was a demon! What did he need a phone for in the first place? He hardly ever used it! What was he doing with it? Calling up his friends back in Hell and organizing a Sunday dinner?_

_She switched the camera from back to front, front to back. The television was on in the background, footage from New York City playing softly. People were cheering and bands were playing and reporters were talking. A fire was crackling in the fireplace and Grace was curled up on the loveseat under a blanket, looking for apps for her new phone. She looked up at the TV and grinned. Her father always made a huge buffet for New Years Eve. When he was home, John Winchester would sometimes join them, which made Grace extremely happy. However, for this New Years Eve, there was no food except for a bag of chips Grace had finished earlier in the night._

"_Crowley!" she shouted and heavy footsteps sounded, coming from the tiled floor in the kitchen and to the carpeted living room. _

_Crowley walked into the room with Grace and handed her a glass of champagne, holding a glass of scotch for himself. Grace put the champagne glass down on the coffee table and for a split second, she thought of her father, who always snuck her a sip of alcohol during the holidays. "Hm?"_

"_Come here." Grace stood up and Crowley cocked an eyebrow. Running over to Crowley, she flung an arm around his neck and he nearly choked on the scotch in his mouth. Pressing her cheek against his, she held up her phone and Crowley saw their faces on the screen. Simply to appease her, he raised his eyebrows and smiled with his lips shut, trying his best to look happy. Grace grinned proudly, her teeth showing and her eyes lit up with happiness, not caring or noticing that Crowley was being a sarcastic bastard. _

_Once she took the picture, she immediately pulled away from Crowley and looked at it, tilting her head and laughing. Crowley walked back over to her and glanced over her shoulder, humming and nodding. "If you don't mind me saying so, I think I look rather dashing in that photo."_

"_Dashing?" repeated Grace, mocking his accent. She put her hand on her hip and straightened herself up, putting on the most posh accent she could muster. It was a mixture of Scottish, Australian, Texan, and English. "What a _dashing _fellow, you are, Crowley." Crowley cringed at the atrocious accent she was putting on, although he could not help but to smile weakly. "You just _absolutely _make me weak in the knees. What woman could possibly resist your foreign charm?"_

_Crowley scoffed as she walked away, running up the stairs as the ball began to drop in New York City. They were counting down the seconds, reaching five, then four, three... He watched the TV for a few seconds and then suddenly thought, "I don't talk like that." Putting his hands by his sides, he shrugged. "Do I?" He laughed to himself and shook his head, knowing that he sounded nothing like Grace's fake accent. "Nah."_

_The next morning, Crowley appeared in Grace's house before she had woken up and sat himself down in the living room, helping himself to some wine that he had left out the previous night. It went down harsh, the taste bitter, but he finished the glass and refused to pour anymore for himself. Wine just wasn't his thing. His eyes scanned the living room and he looked at the pictures on the bookshelves of Grace when she was a child and growing up, but when he looked at the mantle over the fireplace, something caught his eye._

_Crowley stood up and walked closer to the four pictures on the mantel. The last one was new and the picture sat in a dark, wooden frame. He grinned as he saw the picture was the one Grace had taken of them the night before. _

_But what struck him as even stranger was that Grace had placed the picture in such a conspicuous and obvious place where anyone could see it. It was beside her parent's wedding picture and other important ones. The pictures on the mantle had been untouched by Grace since the murder of her parents' and dust was collecting on each one. She never even bothered to dust them. The fact that Grace put their picture next to ones that she treasured blew Crowley's mind. _

_Crowley saw Grace as a weapon. He saw her as a great hunter who needed to be trained and led in the right direction, fighting against the evil people in the world. But it was at that moment that Crowley understood that Grace saw him as so much more than her mentor or just the demon she was bound to for the rest of eternity. Grace saw Crowley as the last of her family, which is why their picture was up with her real family. Grace needed Crowley to be able to make it through life because her mother and father weren't there to guide her through it anymore. _

_The demon felt a slight pang of sympathy for Grace as she began to walk down the stairs, her hair a tangled mess and dried drool on the corner of her mouth. She wiped her face off and saw Crowley standing in her living room. Blinking a few times and rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she stayed completely quiet, just staring at him for a few moments. Crowley took in her appearance. She seemed like she hadn't slept in weeks and she looked almost terrifying. Grace did not even try to make herself look appealing. It was almost like she didn't even care that she looked like a monster before Crowley._

"_Morning, child," Crowley greeted her with a new found adoration. "Fancy a drink?"_

"_I just woke up," she replied groggily._

_Picking the half empty bottle of red wine up off the table, he smiled. "Never too early for a drink."_

* * *

_Walking down the snowy trail of trees, Grace held on loosely to Crowley's arm, his hands deep in his coat pockets. Each tree was bigger and better than the last and Crowley wanted nothing more than to have Grace simply pick a damn Christmas tree and bring it back to her house. Grace had returned home for a few days to celebrate Christmas and begged Crowley the entire time to accompany her to a Christmas tree farm. He firmly told her 'no' several times a day, but finally caved, just like he always did, feeling slightly bad she had no one else to spend Christmas with. Crowley briefly considered getting her a cat, but with her constantly moving around the country, he figured he didn't want to be the one always feeding and taking care of it while she was gone. So it was a no-go on the cat._

_Grace's hat was pulled down to her eyebrows and her rainbow colored scarf was wrapped tightly around her face. The only parts of her face Crowley could see were her eyes, scanning each and every tree excitedly, and her pointed nose, red as a tomato from the cold, whipping winds. Finally, she stopped walking suddenly and Crowley stopped with her, gazing up at the tallest tree in the entire farm. Grace pulled her scarf down and she looked at Crowley, who saw the huge smile on her face._

"_Now," Crowley pointed out, looking sideways at Grace. "How the bloody hell are you going to get that into your house, sweetheart?"_

"_I was going to ask you for help, actually," muttered Grace, shrugging innocently. She looked up at him and gave him the biggest and saddest eyes she could muster. "This tree is perfect."_

"_Don't you think it's a tad too big for you?" asked Crowley, looking up at the top and shielding his eyes from the bright sun. It couldn't have been taller than eight. "Why don't you get... hm - oh -" He looked over his shoulder and nodded towards a small tree, not so different from the tree in Charlie Brown. It was almost dead with bare branches and a skinny trunk. "Why not that one?"_

_Grace frowned. "Dad always liked the biggest trees." She was talking mostly to herself, but accidentally said it outloud._

_Crowley was caught between the Devil and the deep blue sea. Was he supposed to assume the role of her father for a single night and help her get the biggest tree set up into her living room or was he supposed to not help her and see her sulk for weeks and weeks and weeks? The last thing Crowley wanted to do was deal with a grudge-holding Grace. Or an upset Grace. What if she cried? Thinking of having to deal with a sobbing Grace, Crowley said quickly, "Big tree it is."_

* * *

Those were the dreams that haunted Grace that night. She tossed and turned, reliving every single happy memory with Crowley, like he was infesting her mind and trying to convince her to stay loyal. Grace felt like she was watching the dream from up in a corner of her house, following the two wherever they'd go. She paid attention to Crowley's face, trying to figure out what he was thinking. What disgusted her the most was the way she, herself, looked at Crowley when she was younger. With googly eyes and a goofy smile. Watching herself ogle at Crowley made her want to claw her eyes out.

Grace woke around eleven in the morning, silently laying in her bed for close to an hour. She thought that Crowley would come and visit, but when he didn't, Grace then turned her thoughts to Castiel. Was he going to come? Were they going to talk things out? If Grace was seriously going to join the hunt for Crowley to take him down, she knew that she couldn't come right out and tell Dean and Sam all about him. She didn't want to let the boys know about her prior motives.

She knew that there was no getting out of Crowley's deal. No matter who she decided to assist, her future was going to be exactly the same. All Grace was doing was picking a death sentence. Did she want to be smote by Castiel and his angel army? Or did she want to be tortured to death by Crowley? As she thought about it, Grace began to think being smote would probably be the quickest and least painful way to go. Although, her life in Hell would be significantly easier if she stayed loyal to Crowley.

But what was the _right_ thing to do? Grace couldn't decide. For seven whole years, Grace assumed she was doing the right thing. She knew she was doing the right thing, getting rid of all the hunters who were conspiring against her father and with angels. It wasn't a matter of right or wrong, in fact. It was a matter of love and admiration. Grace cared about Dean and Sam, as she had proven to not only herself, but Castiel, the day before when she tried to rescue Dean. While she had no idea why Crowley and Castiel wanted them, she didn't want to kill them. Afraid that they might be harboring something dark from her, Grace didn't want to find out why they were so important in the first place. Angels had never come after _her_, even though she was slaughtering their disgusting partners.

So she decided to ask herself a different question. What did she _want_ to do? No matter what she chose or considered, a little voice in the back of her mind tried to challenge her.

_Oh, you want to choose Dean and Sam? _The voice would say. _Have you forgotten that Crowley's practically raised you for the last seven years? He's given you everything, Grace, and you're just going to forget everything and run? Even after you promised you wouldn't try to go against him? What has he ever done to you to cause you to think this way? What have Dean and Sam done that was so spectacular? They're hunters. Hunters killed your parents. What makes you think they want you around like Crowley does?_

Grace would become rather disgruntled and weight the other option.

_Oh, you want to choose Crowley? _The voice would keep talking. _Don't you know Dean and Sam are humans? Why would you want to befriend a demon who can't even express empathy for you? Crowley probably doesn't even have a soul. You know all those problems and doubts you have? You could talk to Dean and Sam about all those issues in your brain. Besides, don't you want friends your own age? Think about all the reminiscing you'd do with them about your father. Your father expected you to marry a Winchester and you're just going to go kill them?_

But there was another voice in her head that would tell her things whenever. Not just when she was thinking, but anytime at all. And it frightened and bothered Grace. She wanted to smash her head hard on a table until the voices stopped, but when she realized that her conscious would never leave, she had to learn to deal with it.

_Castiel is an angel, you know. Seven years isn't long enough to forget about who killed your parents'. Hunters and angels. Angels aren't good. They pretend to be innocent and pure and loving, but they're not. They're dirty, violent, angry, failed human beings who conspire against good, hard-working men. _

Grace closed her eyes, hoping that she would fall back asleep again to escape the horrid decision she had to make, but at the same time, she wanted to stay awake so she wouldn't have to dream about Crowley anymore. She was stuck in a lose-lose situation, unable to decide for sure. Grace was afraid that if Castiel knew she was still doubtful about teaming up with him, then he would kill her instantly without giving her more time to think. Surely Castiel had to understand how difficult this was for her? Then again, angels didn't have feelings. They had no idea. At least demons were human once. At least demons knew what emotions were.

* * *

"It was a trap," sighed Grace, putting her feet up on the table and leaning her chair back on two legs. Dean and Sam were sitting on the edge of their beds, not looking up at all. Sam was flipping through the pages of a thick book and Dean was researching something on the computer. She had no idea what he could have been researching, for they already knew they were hunting a demon. Scrunching her nose, she didn't want to know what kinds of horrid pages were in the web history of that computer. Tired of sitting in silence, Grace had spoken the first four words the entire half hour they had been there. "The demon set us up."

"You think?" Dean retorted, rolling his eyes, thinking Grace wasn't watching him.

However, she did notice the eye roll and Grace sat up, slamming the legs of her chair and her feet loudly on the ground. Dean looked up and froze. They held eye contact for a long time. "I'm just trying to make conversation since no one wants to talk," she hissed at him. "I don't need your _sass_, Dean. In case you've forgotten, I nearly saved your life."

"_Cas_ saved my life."

"I went back into the damn fire for you," Grace said harshly. "I threw my body over yours so you wouldn't freaking die and I don't even get a 'thank you'? You're just gonna thank Castiel for that?"

Tensions were high between the three as they struggled to find Crowley. The time she had spent with the Winchesters that day made her want to run back to Crowley. Crowley appreciated her, but right then, sitting in the motel room with awkward silences and dirty looks, Grace felt that Dean and Sam hardly appreciated her at all. Then again, the investigation at the apartment building had given them all quite a scare and they were trying very hard to find the demon who had done that. Grace felt a little bad that she knew so much, but couldn't share any of her knowledge with them.

Grace stood up and sighed, trying to calm herself down. She rolled up the sleeves of her shirt and clapped her hands and rubbed them together quickly. "Look," she told them both, slightly irritated that Sam hadn't said a single word yet. His eyes hadn't left the book. "I'm gonna run to the bar and drink until I pass out. Call me if you find anything."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Dean cleared his throat and jumped to his feet, shutting the laptop. "You're not going anywhere. You're a part of this team, so I think you should be helping us."

"I'm not part of any team," Grace shot back, heading towards the door. Dean walked faster and blocked her from getting out of the room. "I'm my own team. I'll do my own research on my own time. And if I want to get a damn drink, then I'll get one. Now, let me out. You can't keep me here forever."

Dean did not budge and Grace was beginning to grow frustrated. He crossed his arms and looked down at Grace with anger flashing in his eyes. "Fine," he spat. "You risked your life to save me. Thank you. Is that what you want to hear?"

"Get out of my way, Dean."

"Keep your phone on loud."

"Okay."

"Be careful."

"I will."

"Call me when you get back to your motel."

"_Okay_," Grace repeated, rolling her eyes in front of him. Dean made a face and Grace cracked a small smile. "If I'm not needed here, then may I please leave?"

Dean glanced at Sam, who finally looked up from his book and shrugged. "Let her go, Dean," Sam finally told his brother. "There's no research to be done. If she wants to go, then let her."

"If there's no research to be done..." With Dean's leg still blocking the exit out of the motel room, Dean grabbed his jacket off the side of the bed and put it around his shoulders. "You coming, Sammy?"

"Excuse me?" Grace raised her eyebrows and put her hands on her hips. "I was about to take myself out."

"You can do that some other night," winked Dean. He threw another jacket at Sam and Sam closed the large book he had been reading, standing up. "Tonight, you're taking us out. I'll drive."


	12. Chapter 12

You can skip this part if you want, but I want to dedicate this chapter to my best friend, Eric. We promised to get matching tattoos when we turned 18 and then we were going to go right to a strip club. Eric committed suicide shortly after his 17th birthday and now that I'm 18, I have to do it all by myself, with nothing but memories of him. Instead of matching tattoos, I've got his initials on me and he's always with me wherever I go. I miss him more and more every single day, but I know he'll be waiting for me.

_He whispers to me when I sleep;_

"_Come, child, at the gates we will meet._

_Let me lift you with My strong, warm arms,_

_While the angels in Heaven keep you safe from harm."_

_He speaks to me when I'm alone;_

"_I know you're tired out there on your own._

_You have lived a meaningful life for many seasons,_

_Of course, you'll be forgiven, but you are down there for a reason."_

_He sings to me when I am sad;_

"_I will not be wrathful, nor damning, nor mad._

_I will love you with My whole heart._

_We will never be too far apart._

_But if there is a day where you do not wake,_

_Many hearts, for you, will break."_

_He promises me when I am scared;_

"_The pain you feel may not be shared._

_But I will never leave your side,_

_I am here to be your guide._

_You, My child, have been blessed,_

_But if instead you want to rest,_

_You will find that I would give,_

_A thousand years to see you live."_

* * *

**CHAPTER 12:**

"Really, Dean? A strip club?"

Dean didn't answer and Grace followed the two men into the club, hiding behind their large bodies. Lights were flashing, nearly giving Grace a stroke, and familiar, 80's hair metal music was playing. Up on the colorful stage, half-naked girls danced with dollars tucked in their bras and panties. Old, perverted men sat close to them, drinking and watching, throwing money at them and wolf whistling. Thankfully, Dean chose a spot in the corner, away from the action, but still able to see the girls. He kept a close eye on them while Sam examined the building, looking everyone up and down.

"This isn't exactly what I had in mind when I said I wanted to go out," Grace sighed, running a hand through her hair and deciding to deal. With all the people in the strip club, Grace began to feel extremely claustrophobic and when she felt sweat begin to form on the back of her neck, she put her hair up into a bun and breathed heavily. When no one decided to pay any attention to her, Grace stood up and tried to scope out the bar area, swallowing her pride and walking by herself to get a drink or two. She pushed her way past men of all ages, but they hardly noticed that she was there. Making her way finally to the bar, she sat down in unoccupied space, not wanting to have to start conversation with anyone. The bartender, who was a normal looking man about her age, served Grace some rum and coke and left her alone without speaking a single word to her.

She sat there for a while, getting drunker and drunker, wondering if Dean and Sam were going to come find her. As long as she kept drinking, it wasn't that bad, truly. Her horrible self-consciousness would go away with each sip and eventually, Grace could just ignore all the strippers walking around the building with huge, fake breasts and long, tan legs. A few of the women would nod at her and smile, at least acknowledging her presence, which was more than any of the men in the building did. However, Grace never nodded back, not wanting to accidentally flirt with them. If accidentally flirting was even possible. Perhaps she was just being paranoid. She just wanted to sit by herself and be left alone. She almost liked being invisible - only when drunk. It was human nature to want attention, so Grace did not reprimand herself for that greedy thought when it crept up on her.

Glancing up at the stage, Grace briefly considered becoming a stripper in her free time. They certainly seemed to make plenty of money and money was something Grace could use. But she wasn't exactly fond of exploiting herself to strange men, dancing half-naked and leading them on. With her body built and muscular from hunting and so much physical activity, Grace could maybe pull being a stripper off, but she knew that she didn't have the chest for that. Or the spray tan. She also had no idea how to use makeup, for she never had any use for it. Laughing at herself, she admitted silently that she was getting a bit carried away, possibly because of the alcohol. She would never become a stripper. It was degrading, to her.

Grace's eyes found Sam in the crowd across the building. He was talking to Dean animatedly, but seemed angry or upset about something. She brushed it off, not really wanting to deal with them after drinking so much. Grace decided to let Dean and Sam do their thing tonight; all she wanted was a drink and that's what she was getting. She had wanted alone time - drinking time - and she was getting it. The strip club didn't really bother her as long as she wasn't watching. Naked people made her blush, anyway. She didn't have much experience in that area and was still a bit naive. As long as she kept her eyes on the prize (in this case, alcohol), she would be fine. Despite where she was and who was around watching, she had gotten what she wanted after all.

To Grace's misfortune, someone called her name. The voice sounded so familiar, but she didn't want to turn around and see someone she knew. How awkward would it be to meet an old friend in a strip club? That's when Grace thought to herself - _what old friends?_ Thankfully, Grace knew the voice calling her was not Crowley's. _That _would have been embarrassing. Crowley would never have let that go. Grace would have went to bed every night hearing Crowley's cackle in her head. The man called her name again and she spun around on her bar stool, nearly falling off, and she squinted her eyes, looking through the crowd for someone she recognized. Quietly begging that it was not someone she knew, she searched the strip club discreetly. Someone was making their way towards her - someone in a long trench coat, someone with striking features and the most beautiful blue eyes - "Castiel?" she slurred. "Damn."

"What are you doing here?" Castiel asked, getting closer to her. Grace jumped off the stool and lost her balance. Castiel held on tightly to her upper arm, keeping her steady on her feet. She gave him a strange look, finding it slightly funny seeing an angel in a strip club. She couldn't help the chuckle that sounded from her mouth and Castiel stared at her, trying to figure out what was so funny to her. "Are you here by yourself?" Apparently, he was just as confused as she was about their presence in a strip club.

"No," muttered Grace, rolling her eyes and nodded over to the area where Dean and Sam were. Their faces had been lost in the crowd. "I came here with Dean and Sam, but it wasn't _my_ idea. All Dean's. What are _you_ doing here?" Castiel looked at her for a long time, suddenly becoming very aware that she was extremely drunk.

"Looking for you," admitted Castiel, glancing about. "Can we talk outside?"

"Oh, yes, get me _out_ of here -"

"Hey!"

Grace and Castiel looked behind them. A bigger man with a thick, black mustache was speed walking towards Grace with short legs and big arms. He was grinning and Castiel looked down at Grace, still holding onto her upper arm. "Do you know this man?" Castiel muttered in her ear.

"No," Grace answered with a sigh, standing up straighter to make her seem tough.

The man walked right up to Grace, making her stumble backwards slightly, very uncomfortable with the lack of distance between them. A smirk grew quickly on his face and his lips curled, making Grace cringe. Grace looked up at him as he pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and pulled a twenty dollar bill out of it, holding it out for Grace to take. At first, she thought he was attempting to buy her a drink, but when he just stared at her, she understood. Grace scoffed. Castiel stood up as tall as possible and looked at Grace's face; even _he_ could tell she was awfully offended. "How about a little privacy?" the man said quietly, leaning into Grace's face. She could smell the booze on his breath. Grace turned to Castiel as he tensed up.

"Are you insinuating that Grace is one of those women up on stage?" Castiel began and Grace held her breath, balling her hands into fists by her sides. Had he actually thought she was a _stripper_? Maybe some girls would have taken it as a compliment, but Grace had never heard anything more offensive from anyone, including Crowley, who was the king of offensive and backhanded compliments. But what shocked her even more - was Castiel trying to defend her? His tone sounded angry, but Grace could not be sure. Castiel let go of Grace and held his hands by his sides.

"With a name like _Grace_?" the man carried on and Grace traced the top row of her teeth with her tongue, staring at the money he was still holding out for her, trying to make her take it. Half of her wanted to take the money and run, but twenty dollars wouldn't get her too far. It wasn't worth it. "There's another girl up there that's named -"

Before the man could finish, Grace had wound up and landed a punch directly on the man's jaw. He cried out, swaying back and forth on his feet, other men around him holding him steady and swearing under their breath at her. Grace shook her hand, which was throbbing, but she kept a straight face. She hadn't expected it to hurt so much or to use so much force, but the man definitely deserved it. It was like punching Castiel, nearly impossible to do damage. Men and strippers alike swarmed to the man's side, who had fallen to his knees and Grace glanced at Castiel, who seemed to not know what to do whatsoever. He placed a strong hand on her shoulder and Grace moved closer to Castiel, getting packed in the small space as more people ran over to see what all the commotion was.

"The _hell_ was that for?" screeched the man, holding his jaw and clenching his teeth in pain. Grace noticed that his lip had been split and he spat blood on the ground. She scrunched her nose, although she probably would have done the same thing if the situation had been reversed.

"You called me a stripper!" shouted Grace drunkenly. "The hell _wasn't_ that for?"

"Most girls would love bein' compared to a -"

Grace lunged for the man again, but Castiel caught her around the waist and pulled her away from the scene. Dean and Sam had finally come over to investigate and laughed when they saw a raging and red Grace in Castiel's arms, being led towards the doors of the building and ushered out by big, burly, security man. She was screaming her head off, obviously drunk, and yelling obscenities at the bigger man on the ground. People were helping him to his feet and Dean nudged Sam when he noticed the large bruise forming on his jawline. "Wonder what he did," chuckled Dean and Sam nodded, a grin plastered on his face, as well. "Come on."

Dean led his little brother outside of the front doors and found Grace still wrestling Castiel, trying to break free of his grip. The shady door slammed behind them and all was silent again. "Cas," Sam was still chuckling, dying to know what had caused Grace to punch a stranger. "What are you doing with her?"

"I need to speak with her," Castiel replied, easily restraining Grace. "But she appears to be - intoxicated. I can handle her from here."

"You sure?" Dean raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms in a very protective way. Grace had relaxed and was slumped against Castiel, half asleep and holding her fist, which was bruised and swollen. Castiel glanced at Grace and tried to stand her up straight on both feet, but it proved to be much more difficult than he imagined. Her eyes were half closed and she leaned against his body so not to fall over on the concrete.

Castiel tilted his head. "Yes, I'm positive." He glanced up at the flashing, neon lights of the strip club and then looked back at Dean with a disdainful look.

"Judgement free zone, man," Dean snapped, knowing that Castiel was for sure questioning Dean's choice of that night's drinking spot.

"Of course," said Castiel, quite bored, and he gripped Grace tightly. With a rushing sound, they were both gone and Dean cracked his knuckles, happily strutting back inside., ready for another beer.

"What do you think the guy did?" Sam asked, catching up to his brother and returning to their table in the corner. The club had settled down and the bruised man was holding ice to his mouth, where Grace had caused his face to swell. "She landed a good punch there."

"Who cares?" Dean asked, clapping his hands together. "She was drunk. Shit happens, yeah?"

* * *

Castiel, without warning, dropped her on the hard bed of her motel room. She didn't bounce, but moaned an 'ow.' He stood at the end of the bed for a few moments as she settled down, her face turning the normal pale it was instead of red, and she finally stopped yelling meaningless things that Castiel didn't understand. Grace flopped on the bed like a fish out of water and growled. Castiel raised an eyebrow slightly, wondering if she was being possessed.

"Can you _believe_ that guy?" she ranted, groaning in frustration. "He thought I was a _stripper_! I have all my clothes on! As if I would dance around _naked_ for a living!" Castiel didn't answer, he hardly listened, but Grace didn't care - she continued, mostly talking to herself. "Like I would have done anything with _him_! He deserved to be punched more..." Grace punched the air hard five times and then dropped her arms to her sides, bouncing on the bed, wiggling around awkwardly. She calmed down again. "Even _Crowley_ would have never said something - like - that!"

Crowley's name got Castiel's attention. He looked at her, wondering if she was still willing to go through with what she promised the other day. After all, she was a very manipulative and determined girl. If she didn't want to be killed by someone, either Castiel or Crowley, she would find a way somehow. There was no way to tell if she was being truthful. "Grace?" Castiel said and Grace sat up quickly, her hair static-y and sticking up humorously in the back. "You are not thinking of going back on your promise to me, are you?"

"Is that all you think about?" inquired Grace, spit flying from her mouth. "All you care about is if I'm telling the truth or not - someone just called me a stripper and you aren't concerned about _my well being_?" She pointed a finger at him and frowned. "_You_ make me so incredibly angry, you know that?"

"You have killed dozens in the past," Castiel countered. "Why should I be so concerned about your punching a man?"

"Think you're real funny, do ya?" hissed Grace, crossing her arms, and shaking her head. "All those men and women had it coming to them. They deserved it, I'll have you know. They all have wronged, so I'm just like karma to them. Comin' back and kickin' their asses."

"And you believe that killing them was not wrong?"

"I believe I did the right thing in getting rid of those evil people."

"Because that is what Crowley told you?"

"Because it's what I _know_," Grace insisted, her chest heaving up and down. She was becoming angrier with Castiel. Just as she was beginning to like him, Castiel had to ruin everything by bringing up her past and the things that she had done. She hated when he questioned her and her actions. Couldn't he just let it all alone? "Besides, if what I did was really so wrong, wouldn't some perfect little angel have killed me years ago?"

"Not necessarily."

Grace stood up off the bed and approached Castiel, getting very close to him, sticking her face in his. While she was only a little shorter than him, she felt significantly smaller. He looked so big and proud, while she was nothing. She was a drunk twenty-three-year-old. She was simply an ant that Castiel could step on if he grew too frustrated with her antics. "Do it, Castiel," she whispered, her words strung together and her eyes bloodshot. "Kill me. You know I deserve it. After everyone I've killed."

Castiel looked down his nose at Grace, who was standing her ground very well, and sighed. He knew that she was testing him, seeing how far he would go. Seeing if he was really going to hurt her. Knowing that she was drunk, Castiel grew tired of her quickly. "Grace -"

"Kill me."

"No."

"Then what are you doing here?" she frowned. "What are you _really_ doing here? What are you doing talking to me? It's obvious you see me as a horrible person, no better than demons, probably. Am I right? Is that what you think of me?"

The angel swallowed loudly and thought hard. What _did_ he really think of Grace? She was tough and definitely admirable. A great hunter, too - there was no doubt about that. Grace was still oddly close to him and was waiting for his answer, which was taking a long time to process in his mind. "I think -" Castiel told her honestly. "I _know_ - you are more than the things you've done in the past and the deal you have made."

Grace looked down at her feet, not expecting to hear that come out of Castiel's mouth ever. She was expecting to hear something about how evil she was, how she belonged in Hell with Crowley, and how he should kill her on the spot. This threw her off completely and she now had nothing to say, even in her drunken state, she could not think of anything absurd or ridiculous to lighten up the situation. Castiel's voice seemed to automatically sober her up and relax her. Maybe Castiel wasn't such a bad guy, after all.

"And I will not kill you," he finished. Grace listened carefully, comprehending all he was saying and appreciating it greatly.

Smiling up at him, Grace took a step back and sat down on her bed, thinking for a long time about what he had said to her. Did it mean he actually thought she was a good person, despite all the things that she had done? Grace thought she was just helping the world. She believed herself to actually be a good person by purifying the world. There was no way she would let evil hunters roam around the Earth, threatening the safety of people who could be her friends. "That was the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me," breathed Grace, shrugging her shoulders. She laid back in her bed and closed her eyes. "Cas?"

There was no answer from him, but she knew he was still standing there because she hadn't heard him leave. Castiel was slightly endeared that Grace had called him 'Cas.' Was she beginning to trust him? See him as an ally?

"What did you want to talk to me about?"

"Finding Crowley."

That was the last thing Grace wanted to think about. The last thing on her mind was Crowley and the first thing being getting some sleep. She needed to sober up because whenever she opened her eyes, the room started to spin and she began to sweat. Shutting her eyes tight, she listened to Castiel speak.

"Are you prepared for this?" Castiel said. "To kill him when the time comes?"

"No," replied Grace truthfully. Castiel narrowed his eyes and frowned. "But only because if he dies, I go, too, and I'm not ready to die."

"That is why you will be kept safe while the Winchesters and I carry out this mission," Castiel told her and Grace cackled.

"I'm sorry - you're not letting me in on this?"

"It is too dangerous for you. Crowley will send Hellhounds after you."

"You can't keep me confined to one place forever. The Hellhounds will get me eventually."

"Hellhounds can be killed and you will be able to see them."

Grace shook her head. "I'm going with you guys," she snarled. "I should be the one to kill Crowley if anything." As soon as the words left her lips, she felt conflicted. Did she really just say that? Was she really plotting with an angel to kill the man who had practically raised her? It just sounded and seemed so wrong. All her life, she was against the angels and with the demons - how could she just switch sides so suddenly? There was a feeling in her stomach - either she was about to throw up, or she was nervous about turning against Crowley. Regardless of what she thought, Castiel obviously did not care to know anymore information, because just as Grace opened her mouth to speak again, he was gone.

_So that's how it's going to be_, she thought, _Leave the drunk girl. _Grace harrumphed. Crowley would have stayed with her.


End file.
